


A Marriage of Convenience

by Phuchka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Jealous John, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Regency Romance, Smut, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 43,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phuchka/pseuds/Phuchka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of ~</p><p>The Honourable Sherlock Holmes, Alpha, younger brother of the Earl of Sherrinford<br/>with<br/>Mr. John Watson, Omega, son of Mr. Howard Watson, chairman of the City Bankers Guild</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [权宜婚姻](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203091) by [AnnDa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnDa/pseuds/AnnDa)



> So I have always enjoyed reading Regency romances and thought it might be fun to transport my favourite BBC series characters there. However I am not likely to be maintaining historical accuracy. At all.  
> And while I am in the confessional, let me also add that I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters, much as I would like to.

John Hamish Watson had been brought up to believe that he was a free man. That despite being an Omega, he had the power to choose within the constraints that society placed on him. He had received a wide education and been allowed to read as many books as he wanted. He was allowed to learn horse riding and fencing and not just to play the piano and paint.

So it came as a shock to him when he was told that his marriage had been arranged.

John’s father, Howard Watson, was a banker in the City. So while they did not have a title or lineage, they had plenty of money. It was more than enough for John and his sister Harriet, to lead a comfortable life and for his father to provide to them all the accoutrements a person of Quality was expected to have. However, it was also his father’s single-minded obsession with obtaining a title and in his eyes, elevating his only son in the ranks of society, which had led to John’s current predicament. 

John’s sister was an Alpha and was currently spending her time courting Clara, their neighbour’s daughter and lounging about in ale houses. There was little hope of Harriet ever being able to marry a high born Omega. Omegas were rare and prized in society and a titled Omega, even if impoverished would find several takers within their own class.

John was thus Howard Watson’s only hope for gaining an entry into Quality. John had known that he would one day be expected to marry and settle down with an Alpha but he had not thought that he would be asked to marry a complete stranger and too an aristocrat.

“But Father…how can I marry somebody I don’t… I don’t know at all”, he tried pleading. 

Howard Watson was a shrewd man who was used to having his way and getting on in the world, largely due to the force of his personality. This case was no different.

“But this is the perfect opportunity for you to enter the aristocracy Johnny! The young man comes from a long line of very distinguished noblemen. In terms of birth or breeding, there could be nothing more desirable. Additionally I am told he is very intelligent and prefers intellectual pursuits to social frippery. 

His only misfortune is that due to the last Earl of Sherrinford’s excesses, he and his elder brother, the current Earl, have fallen on hard times. The current Lord Holmes is already married so he has to find a match for his younger brother who will help them recover the lost glory of the Holmes estate. It would a very convenient situation for both them and for us.”

“A convenient marriage…” John said slowly.

“Don’t look like that Johnny”, his father said more softly. “You know I only wish the best for you. Indeed I would give my life to ensure it. You have reached marriageable age and this match offers you not just a title but also a highly eligible bachelor. We may never get such an opportunity again!”

“Johnny, what is bothering you?” he said when John didn’t reply. “Is there someone else? You may speak to me quite frankly. If you have set your heart on someone and he or she is eligible, I will not withhold my consent.”

Howard Watson looked at his son – at the deep blue eyes lost in thought, the golden blond hair and the small, neat figure lightly muscled by exercise. He doted on his son and had been happy to ensure that he was not lacking in anything. His wife was a bit of a foolish creature and Harry had clearly taken after her but he liked to think that John despite being an Omega had inherited his common sense and courage. His John may not be a very handsome or very beautiful Omega, but he was nevertheless one in a million, Howard thought proudly. 

John turned to look at his father seeing in the old man’s eyes the love he hid behind his bluster. “I know you mean the best Father. It’s just that it’s come as a bit of a surprise to me and I had never really thought of marriage”.

“Well then that’s okay Johnny!” Howard Watson said relieved, clearly taking John’s words to mean consent. “You are almost two and twenty. It’s time we had you comfortably settled”, he said affectionately ruffling John’s hair.

“Lord Holmes and his brother will be visiting us tomorrow and staying for the weekend. I should expect that Sherlock will offer for you then and you will be happy to accept. Lord Holmes and I will arrange for the rest”, he announced leaving no room for argument.

“Sherlock”, John murmured thinking of what a strange name it was. He wondered how the man would be and how he felt about being compelled to marry someone he had yet to meet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and for encouraging me through the kudos and comments!  
> Here is Chapter 2 presenting Sherlock's reaction to the planned marriage...

Sherlock Holmes, younger brother of Lord Mycroft Holmes and the subject of one John Watson’s contemplations, was furious.   
His glacial blue eyes flashed fire and his dark curls tossed about like waves on high seas as he rode his horse across the plains. He could not believe what he was being asked to do. That things should come to such a pass that he would have to get married! And that too for something as stupid as money! He hated Mycroft more than he could have believed possible as he recalled their conversation that morning.

“It is the only way Sherlock. Unless you agree to marry Howard Watson’s son, we will not be able to keep Sherrinford. It would mean our ruin and the loss of our honour”, Mycroft Holmes said as he looked at his younger brother.

“How could you have let this happen Mycroft?! What had you been doing while Father gambled his way through our fortune?” Sherlock burst out. 

He knew he was being unjust but he didn’t care. As a second son, Sherlock had been happy to have as little involvement in the earldom as possible. He trusted Mycroft to take care of Sherrinford Castle and its tenants while he passed his time doing his science experiments, reading all that he could lay his hands on and focusing on studies of famous crimes and criminals. He had honed his observation skills and with his extremely sharp mind and his eidetic memory he felt certain he would have been much better at tracking down criminals than the Bow Street Runners. While he knew he could never take this up as an occupation while he remained a peer, he had thought to nevertheless pursue it as seriously as he could. Maybe on a consulting basis.

He had no interest in asserting his Alpha status and getting bonded to an Omega. Indeed he despised his baser nature and vowed not to let things like bonding or marriage, get in the way of his work. He prided himself on his intellect and from what he had read, spending a heat with an Omega seemed like a surefire way of losing control of his mind.

“I was away at Court assisting His Majesty at the time, Sherlock, as you well know. I did not realize Father was bringing us to the threshold of ruin. Nonetheless, the irony is not lost on me that while performing my duty towards the country I may have been remiss in my duty towards my own home,” Mycroft sighed.

“Yes, you have been remiss Mycroft”, Sherlock said bitterly. “Have you forgotten that you are the heir and I am the spare? I shouldn’t be the one having to sacrifice my freedom for the family honour!”

“I have done all I could Sherlock and you know it! It is now time for you to stand up and shoulder part of the burden”, Mycroft said sternly his voice ringing out across the huge library. 

He looked at his brother’s rebellious gaze and wondered sadly about the Omega he would be tying to the boy. True, Sherlock was now almost six and twenty but he was still inclined to behave more as the little child who wanted to grow up to be a pirate than as a man of the world. His brother was a genius and it was his genius that alienated him from the world. Most other people were simply unable to match up to his intellect or hold his interest for long. He was happy to be left alone conducting his experiments in the attic or helping out Mycroft’s friend and a Justice of the Peace, Lord Lestrade, with some criminal case. 

“And it would hardly be a burden! It is time you had an Omega Sherlock however much you resist it now. You will feel the Need sooner or later.   
John Watson is a very well brought up young Omega and Howard Watson his father is a well respected name in business circles. Despite their middle class background, I am inclined to think that this might work out very well for us. They have stepped up to help us out at this difficult time and we must be grateful for that. We will leave tomorrow for their country home and stay there for the weekend. You can get better acquainted with John while we are there. If you find him completely repulsive of course, I will not force you. But if you find him even a little tolerable, I hope you will consider your duty”, Mycroft said in a more conciliatory tone.

Sherlock understood quite well that he had no real choice. He loved Sherrinford Castle and was proud of his lineage. He would do almost anything not to let it fall into ruin. While it was painful to think that his marriage was going to be in truth, such a mercenary transaction, he supposed it would be no worse than having to marry under other circumstances. Much as he resented Mycroft’s constant interference in his life, in this case, he knew his brother must have little choice or else he would never have asked him to marry the son of a City banker.

As he slowed his horse to a canter, Sherlock felt more philosophical about the enterprise. He could not feel that the Omega would be pleased to marry him in these circumstances, so perhaps they both could lead their separate lives not bogged down by this marriage of convenience. 

But since he would be forced to spend a significant part of his time with this John Watson person, a small voice inside him sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t be like everyone else… dull, boring, predictable.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock and Mycroft arrived at the Watson’s country home on a fine June morning. The birds were chirping and the sun was shining but in John Watson’s heart, clouds had gathered. He had had several conversations with his mother ever since his father had shared his plans and none of them had inspired him with any confidence about his future.

“Oh my poor child! Given off in marriage like this to some strange Alpha! When will your father learn! How will you cope? You are still so innocent, so sheltered. You know nothing of the ways of these Alpha males. This has been the fate of Omegas down the ages, so you cannot escape it. But no, I mustn’t frighten you - it may not be too bad – after all he is a nobleman! You will be well looked after and have everything you could need. When I married your father, he was still struggling to find his place in the world. Oh such tough times I went through in those days! Such privations!” Lydia Watson carried on in this fashion till some of John’s optimism and level-headedness began to desert him.

According to his mother, Alpha males were fierce, dominating creatures who became even more vicious when they were mated. Once they saw an Omega in heat, they lost all self control and reverted to their animal instincts. The Omega could do little but lie quietly at their mercy till the frenzy passed. Alphas were also intensely territorial and had been known to kill anyone they viewed as a threat to their possession of the Omega bondmate.  
However, while the Omega was pretty much tied to their Alpha once bonding took place except in rare cases of bond severance, it did not work that way for the Alphas. They were free to engage with any Omega or Beta who caught their fancy irrespective of bonding status. Aristocratic Alphas especially had a bevy of Omegas to please them and a well bred Omega bondmate was expected to overlook and ignore these indiscretions on the part of their Alpha.

Every molecule in John’s body wanted to rebel against these twisted norms, but he knew that very soon he might be expected to fall in line and accept them. He could only hope and pray that his would-be husband’s nature would not be quite as brutish as he was being led to believe. His father had assured him that Sherlock was an eligible young man. But he was in a rush to make the most of the opportunity and did not spend too much time discovering the finer points of his prospective son-in-law’s nature.

And so on that bright morning, John peered from behind the curtains as he heard the carriage roll up to their house his heart filled with excitement and trepidation. He saw two tall men alight – the only impression he got of the one who looked younger was of pale skin and dark, curly hair – before they were escorted indoors. His mother came bustling in then saying excitedly, “Well so they have arrived dear! Are you ready? Why haven’t you worn the ruby in your cravat John? You must learn to dress a little better once you are married!” John sighed and let his mother fuss.

John and his mother joined his father and the Holmeses in the parlour for tea. John was feeling completely mortified by this time and trying his best not to blush. His parents were not making things easier with all their fawning over their two aristocratic guests. As his father extolled his virtues to the brothers, John finally chanced a direct glance at them. Specifically at Sherlock. The men had risen when the Omegas had entered the room and John saw that Sherlock was even taller than he had first thought. Now he saw unruly dark curls and piercing light blue eyes set in a face with arrogantly high cheekbones. That intense gaze slowly turned away from the conversation and fixed on him appraisingly. John immediately blushed and lowered his gaze.

His embarrassment was far from over however as his father said, “Lord Holmes and I have some matters to discuss. John, why don’t you show Sherlock the rose garden? The weather is really lovely for a stroll.”

Inwardly sighing at this blatant attempt at leaving him alone with Sherlock, John rose and said, “Of course Father. This way Mr. Holmes.”

 ~O~

In the rose garden, John and Sherlock walked in silence for a while both lost in their thoughts. Just as John thought of saying something, Sherlock spoke.

“Fencing or shooting?” he asked suddenly throwing John completely off track.

“Sorry?”

“Fencing or shooting? Which is your preferred sport? Clearly you have proficiency in both.”

“How can you tell?” John knew his father had not highlighted any of his non-Omega like accomplishments.

“I can also tell that you have a keen interest in the sciences, possibly...biology or medicine. You would have liked to be a doctor if you had a chance. Your mother loves reading romance novels and your sister Harriet loves her wine and is presently courting an Omega” Sherlock rattled off.

“How can you possibly know all that?!” John asked a little stunned.

Sherlock merely smirked and turned the direction of the conversation. “Mr. Watson, I am sure you are fully aware about the reason I am here today?”

When John nodded, he continued, “I want you to be open with me. I hope, that if you find this matter in any way disagreeable to you, you will let me know and this affair shall go no further.”

John looked up at him and Sherlock’s frankness gave him courage. “I wasn’t compelled sir, even though it may appear so by Father’s manner. He is too fond of me to do anything of the sort. And…and I do not find your suit disagreeable. I consider myself a practical man and I perfectly understand the circumstances, and … I would make you the same entreaty you have made to me sir. If the affair is not to your liking…” John hesitated unsure of how to proceed.

Sherlock looked down at the blond surprised. He had seen how uncomfortable the Omega looked – there was a tremor in his left hand as he held the tea cup, he blushed every time his Father praised him and he had sighed when asked to show Sherlock the garden. He had therefore wanted to check on John’s thoughts about the matter. He had not expected him to turn the tables and give him a way out. Brave. Interesting.

“How do you feel about the violin?”

“Sorry what?” John asked bewildered.

“I play the violin when I’m thinking, sometimes I don’t talk for days and… potential bondmates should know the worst about each other”, Sherlock smiled.

“Oh…”, was all John could manage, his head spinning at the sharp turns which this conversation was taking.

“Mr. John Watson, would you do me the honour of becoming my husband? While the circumstances of our union must seem strange, I assure you that I will try my best to ensure your future happiness and comfort”, Sherlock said formally.

John looked up at Sherlock, so tall and broad and into his stormy blue eyes. “It will be my honour to be your Omega, sir”, John said quietly and noticed how Sherlock relaxed perceptibly. “I will do my best to make you happy and comfortable.”

“You have already made me a very relieved man sir”, Sherlock said with a quick grin. “Let us at once share the good news with our expectant families. I am sure they are on tenterhooks by now.”

Sherlock did not attempt to kiss him but put forward his hand. John placed his small hand in his watching as the long fingers closed over it, the contact sending a thrill through him. They walked back hand in hand in the direction of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated with a lovely image by abutterflymind here:  
> http://labellecreation.livejournal.com/37145.html


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's so great to read your comments and receive kudos for this work... I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! :)
> 
> Before this next chapter, I want to give a very short intro about Regency romances and Omegaverse to those readers who are new to either genre. If you already know about these you can skip ahead to the chapter.
> 
> Regency romances are basically romance novels set in early 19th century Britain. This was the time when the Prince of Wales ruled as the king's proxy or as Prince Regent. It was a time best depicted in Jane Austen's works though a lot of contemporary writers have chosen to set their stories in it too. These novels mainly have a romantic plot with a lot of emphasis on manners, fashions, the activities of the aristocrats and difference between the classes highlighted.
> 
> Omegaverse is a type of alternate universe that allows for three types of sub-genders besides male and female. There are Alphas who are dominant, Omegas who are more the submissive or receptive partner and Betas who are like normal humans. Alphas and Omegas are the key characters in omegaverse stories. While exact details may vary from story to story, the few constants in this fluid universe are the slightly animalistic mating rituals, heat cycles, the mention of scents, the Alphas possessive behaviour and the Omegas ability to give birth. There are a lot of omegaverse fics out there if you want to know more. 
> 
> So yeah, this story is a mix of two completely clashing genres! :P

Before it had quite sunk in that he was now betrothed, preparations for John’s wedding were in full swing. Apparently both Lord Holmes and his father had agreed that it should take place as soon as possible. His father did not want to leave room for the Holmeses to change their mind and Lord Holmes presumably needed the money quite desperately, John thought cynically. 

His mother was going into raptures over shopping for his trousseau and trying hard to interest John in the process. John had never been one to indulge in finery, choosing comfort over style, but even he had to admit that his wedding to an aristocrat did demand some greater care. He knew his fiancé could be considered an extremely attractive man and looking at himself in the mirror, he felt a sudden pang. He thought himself quite ordinary and had never let that bother him, but now he wondered how Sherlock felt about marrying him. He knew that when the Heat struck, his looks would hardly matter but… he blushed suddenly to catch himself thinking of spending a Heat with Sherlock.

Beyond that fateful weekend, he had not seen him again. Even during that weekend he had not spent a moment alone with Sherlock apart from that stroll in the rose garden. The rest of the time had gone by in a blur with his father throwing a small party to celebrate the engagement the next day. He always saw Sherlock in company and during meal times and they did not exchange more than basic pleasantries. Sherlock often sat in stony silence, with a haughty expression on his face until his brother gave him a pointed look. Mycroft carried on the burden of polite conversation and Sherlock’s forbidding demeanour managed to quell even John’s mother.

“I do hope you will be happy dear”, she said. “Sherlock seems… well he’s not very talkative is he? And he seemed quite…forbidding didn’t he?”

“Well what do you expect Mother? It’s not like he truly wants this marriage”, John said sharply.

“No, no my love! He is lucky to have you. I am sure he’s just shy. Remember what I told you John…as long as you bring him comfort and stay out of his way, am sure you will be very happy together.”

“And that’s the secret to a happy marriage – staying out of his way!” John muttered bitterly.

~O~

The day of the wedding dawned bright and sunny for which the Watsons thanked the gods. The wedding ceremony itself was a beautiful affair. Howard Watson had spared no expense and it showed. The church was decked out in purple orchids specially brought in for the occasion and expensive white lace and ribbons. Howard Watson had predictably invited all his acquaintances, friends and family to show what an eligible match he had made for his son. John thought that was probably the reason why Sherlock’s relatives were not present but were to join them at a ‘small gathering’ at Sherrinford, the Holmes family seat. After the wedding, they were to move directly to Sherrinford and a couple of days after that they were to go to Paris for two weeks on their honeymoon.

John and Sherlock wore identical black tailcoats, cream coloured waistcoats and gray pantaloons. Their white dress shirt was offset by a grey cravat. Sherlock had a single large diamond pinned to his cravat while John had a sprig of orange blossoms in his buttonhole. Sherlock looked very dashing, John thought, when he caught sight of him standing stiffly at the altar. He would have been astonished to find that Sherlock thought the same about him, as Howard Watson handed his son over to his would be Alpha.

There were butterflies in John’s stomach but he uttered his responses in a calm voice and heard Sherlock’s baritone ring out confidently. When the ring was placed on his finger, John was glad to see that he had not betrayed his nervousness with a tremor. He looked into Sherlock’s eyes as he placed the ring on his finger but could not read any emotion on that cool face. To symbolically seal their union, their ring fingers were also pierced and Sherlock’s Alpha blood allowed to mix with John’s Omega one by the priest placing their hands together palm to palm. When finally, the priest concluded the ceremony and announced, “You may now kiss your Omega”, Sherlock bent forward and lightly brushed his lips against John’s. John’s heart jumped but he wasn’t sure that even qualified as a kiss. However as he wasn’t eager for a display in front the assembled crowd, he was quite okay with it. 

John’s parents were the first to offer the couple their congratulations, John’s father looking like he would burst with pride and his mother hugging him while shedding tears, presumably of joy. Harriet clapped him on the shoulder and winked at Sherlock, causing John further embarrassment. Lord Holmes formally shook hands with both of them and John met Lady Holmes who turned out to be a beautiful, rather buxom lady who was as friendly as Mycroft was reserved. “Just call me Anthea. I can feel that we will get along splendidly!” she said warmly. 

The wedding banquet was another demonstration of Howard Watson’s largesse with all manner of delicacies laid out. Sherlock and John sat next to each other receiving congratulations from all the guests and Sherlock barely touched a morsel of the food served to him. John could see that his – husband – was having a tough time keeping a pleasant countenance as he answered platitude with platitude. He supposed he was quite an impatient man. Probably a short-tempered one too if the expression in those mutinous eyes was anything to go by. Dangerous, John thought, and wondered why that excited him.

Soon it was time for John to bid farewell to his parents. Harriet had drunk too much as usual and was sleeping it off somewhere. Howard Watson gave John a tight hug and his mother as expected, gave him a teary one. “Take good care of my John, Mr. Holmes”, Howard said shaking hands firmly with Sherlock. “You can rest assured I will, sir”, Sherlock said smoothly as he handed John into the carriage.

Sherlock got into the carriage after him and then they were off. Lord and Lady Holmes were to follow them in a separate carriage. John felt a strange mixture of emotions churning within him. He could scarcely believe that he was married. He was leaving his childhood home and all that was familiar to go away with a stranger. He was sad about leaving but at the same time excited to look forward to his new life. It would be a whole new way of living, new customs, new places and of course a new person to get used to. He peered beneath his lashes at the man sitting so stiffly next to him, his Alpha. He wondered how Sherlock had known those things about him at their first meeting.

After a while, Sherlock looked at him and sighed, “Okay, so you have questions.”

“Well yes, how did you know all those things about me that day in the rose garden?”

“Hmm…so you like to solve mysteries too,” Sherlock smiled. “When I met you I could see that you walked well except when you felt anxious. Then you began to favour your left leg very slightly. That seems to indicate some old injury that has healed but left you with a memory of the pain. You have had a sheltered upbringing so the only way would be a sport you played. Your father doesn’t keep horses for riding and you would not be allowed to box as an Omega. You have the stance of a fencer and the indented index finger of a regular marksman, so clearly proficiency in both. Interesting because most Omegas are restricted to more artistic pursuits.” Sherlock took a breath and looked at John’s stunned face.

“We were shown your watercolours in the library but I also saw the books there which Howard Watson did not seem to know much about. They were medical journals and they had your initials on them. Interested in medicine then. There were also quite incongruously, several romance novels depicting Alpha Omega affairs. Not in keeping with your tastes possibly and likely to be your mother’s. Could have been your sister’s of course but she’s an Alpha and once I saw your mother I just took a guess. Your sister was absent during our meeting and your Father’s words suggested that she had gone somewhere nearby. At her age, and given the HW loves CD scratched into the apple tree in your garden, I presume she is courting some Omega whose initials are CD. The scratches are too recent to be your father’s and Howard Watson doesn’t strike me as that sort of man”, Sherlock said mischievously. 

“How could you possibly know about Harry’s drinking?” John asked looking dazed.

“Shot in the dark. Good one though. The nature of your sister’s writing on the tree suggesting she tried several times before being able to even carve out her initials. And the same pattern was elsewhere – there are several trees in your garden bearing the mark of Harry’s drunken devotion to his Omega.”

John drew a deep breath, “That… was amazing.”

Sherlock spun around to look at him. “You think so?”

“Of course, it was. It was extraordinary… it was quite extraordinary!”

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Damn you”, Sherlock said and John began to laugh.

And just like that Sherlock and John were engaged in the easiest conversation they had had so far. Sherlock told him about his Work - his interest in the criminal sciences and how he sometimes helped out Lestrade. He found a very willing and admiring audience in John and told him about some of his cases. They spoke like this intermittently through the duration of their journey and John began to feel more hopeful about their future as he fell into a light doze.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherrinford Castle was huge. Sherlock had roused him as they neared it so that John could appreciate the full beauty of the place. It was early evening when they reached and the rays of the sun cast a golden sheen on the ancient castle stones. There were turrets and spires and everything John had only ever read about in books. There was a beautiful blue pond in front of the castle and well manicured grounds flanked by a row of oak trees. The gardens stretched out as far as the eye could see. John could understand why the Holmeses were so proud of their home.

Inside, the castle was as huge as it had appeared from outside but a little less intimidating. It had all the signs of a well loved family home, while still reflecting a refined tastefulness. To recover after the excitements of the day, and prepare for the gathering in the evening, John was shown directly into a large bedroom. Sherlock’s room was the one adjoining his. John was a little surprised even though he knew he shouldn’t be. After all with a home that was a castle, of course everyone would have a separate room. They could have ten rooms to a person, in a house this big! But he had somewhat quaintly imagined that he would be sharing his room with Sherlock. Well, next door was close enough, he thought and it did give both of them some privacy. John remembered his mother telling him that aristocratic Alphas wouldn’t want a clingy Omega.

John next saw Sherlock when they went to the downstairs for dinner. His valet had dressed him in another handsome outfit from his trousseau and felt a bit foolish wearing it when there were to be only a few family members. But when he reached the Hall he saw that Lord Holmes definition of a ‘small gathering’ was quite different from his own. There were close to fifty people, most of them relatives of the family. After being subjected to scrutiny from several pairs of imperious eyes and snide whispers and being forced to maintain a smiling demeanour, John felt exhausted by the time dinner was over. 

The gathering was dominated by Alphas and their combined pheromones also made him feel a bit shaky unless he was standing close to Sherlock. John didn’t know if it was his imagination or if the blood mixing at their wedding had actually caused such a reaction. As the night wore on, the men began to get drunk and John could hear some of Sherlock’s Alpha cousins ribbing him about his wedding night. John blushed and Lady Anthea tactfully guided him upstairs leaving the men downstairs to finish their wine and smoke their cigars. 

His room was lit only by the glow of the fire in the hearth and his bed had rose petals strewn across it. His valet was waiting to help him change into a wine coloured silk robe – he had never set eyes on it before so he assumed his mother must have packed it in. John’s heart began to pound. Lady Anthea smiled sweetly and told him before she left, “Don’t worry John. Sherlock is a gentleman and he will be gentle I am sure. The wedding night is a magical way of bonding between an Alpha and his Omega. After this you two can never be separated.”

As soon as he was alone, John opened the window hoping that the cold air would calm his nerves. Unfortunately, it appeared the drunken party guests were in the room just below him and he could hear every lewd joke and bawdy comment. “Show him who’s the master, who’s the Alpha, Sherlock!” “Yea! Pump him full, let him have it… these little lush Omegas like it rough!” John hurriedly shut the window feeling even more nervous than before. He was not in Heat now, but he would be, once Sherlock bit him. It would not be a true Heat which he had every three months and which lasted around three days. This Heat was more a reaction to being bonded by the Alphas bite. He hoped the pheromones that released would be enough to help him get through the night. He wondered though about all the other nights between his Heats when he would be expected to warm Sherlock’s bed…he prayed that their union might not be as distasteful an experience as his mother had made it sound.

After a while, John had managed to calm down a bit, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him as curled up between the cool linen sheets. When he heard the door open, however, his body was immediately on full alert and he sat up in bed. Sherlock came into view, the light from the fireplace showing that his cravat was off, his shirt open at the collar and his curls looking a bit wild. He had been drinking quite a bit too as his raised colour indicated. John just stared at him tongue-tied and a bit terrified as he made his way towards the bed. Sherlock too was looking straight at him, those otherworldly blue eyes piercing into his, as he began pulling off his coat. John wondered madly if he could hear his heart pound.

Sherlock sat down on the bed next to John. “Hello John, so you’re still awake”, he said conversationally as he bent to pull his boots off. 

“Hello”, John said faintly. 

“Good, we need to talk”. 

“Talk?”

“Erm, John you should know that I consider myself married to my Work. And while I am your Alpha in the eyes of the world, I have no wish to bond with you tonight”, Sherlock said looking at John.

John felt like he had been punched in the gut. A primal Omega part of him that he hadn’t been aware of, felt absolutely humiliated and anguished at being rejected by his Alpha. 

While his brain struggled to process what Sherlock had said, the man continued. “From the way you have been clutching at the bed sheets and the look in your eyes and the fact that you have been trying to curl up your body away from me, it is clear that you want nothing of the sort either. So you need not worry! To be brutally frank, we may have been forced into this marriage by our circumstances, but nobody can tell us when to bond.”

John finally found his voice, “So you don’t wish to bond with me…”

“Not with you. And not with any Omega. I planned to devote my life to my work and didn’t think I would ever get married. However here we are! You are my Omega now and it is my duty to take care of you and that means…that means helping you out with your Heats as well”, Sherlock paused looking away the colour rising in his cheeks. John was too taken aback to say anything, so he looked back and continued.

“It has also been brought to my attention that we will need to produce an heir because Mycroft has been married for some time now and the expected hasn’t happened. So while we will eventually have to bond, I prefer to do it when we have established an understanding between us. I believe we can have a tolerably comfortable life together so long as we give each other enough freedom and space.” Sherlock said lifting his right knee onto the bed as he warmed to his theme. He was so close now that John could smell the sweet wine on his breath and his thigh almost brushed John’s.

“The only big problem…the big, fat problem, is Mycroft. He will not leave me in peace till we have bonded” Sherlock said with a frown. Then seeing that John was looking down at the covers and not inclined to make any reply, he said, “Well…my apologies for keeping you up so late. It has been a long and tiring day but I am glad we had this conversation. Good night John, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sherlock jumped up from the bed, picked up his boots and made his way to his own room blithely as John muttered a soft “Goodnight”.

John’s thoughts were in a whirl. A part of him was relieved and a part of him disappointed. He appreciated Sherlock’s sentiments that they get to know each other a little better before bonding. But equally it had been clear how distasteful all this was to him. How little he had wanted John. John wondered if his father knew that his grandson might one day become the next Lord Holmes. This had been news to him but his father would go into raptures. And Sherlock would bond with him just so that Sherrinford could have an heir. He had married him so that Sherrinford could be saved from ruin. He had not wanted John at all or cared in the slightest that he had a “lush Omega” right next to him on the bed. Well, John thought morosely, he had known this was a marriage of convenience, he should not have expected more.  
He sighed and drew the bed clothes over himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we all felt sorry for John in the last chapter, but no worries! Things can only get better...right? Right? Haha...I'm not telling! Read on to find out...
> 
> P.S. In other news, I have realised that by writing this fic I have created a monster...a mix of Omegaverse, Regency and BBC Sherlock...what was I thinking?! But I am so glad to see the positive response...so thank you! :)

John didn't sleep very well, only dropping off in the early hours of the morning. He got out of bed and dressed hurriedly for breakfast finding that he was quite late.

"We just thought to let you rest, dearest. You must have been exhausted", Lady Anthea said with a knowing smile as they sat together in the Great Hall. John blushed deeply but Lord Mycroft sitting in his armchair perusing the newspaper appeared not to have heard. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

"Umm, won't Sherlock be joining us for breakfast?" he asked Anthea, immediately feeling stupid.

"Oh, the boy hardly eats", she said. "He's off experimenting somewhere in the castle. Don't worry."

"He should be here with his Omega", Mycroft said setting down his paper and looking displeased.

"No, no. That's fine with me. It's all fine", John said hastily.

"Hmm... you are very loyal, very quickly", Mycroft smiled. A bit nastily, John thought. He wanted to make some retort but thought better of it. No point getting quarrelsome with his brother-in-law on his first day as a wedded Omega.

After breakfast, Lady Anthea took him on a tour of the Castle. "Only if you are not too tired or sore, dear", she said, completely oblivious to John's blushes. She seemed not to realize that Sherlock and John had done nothing the previous night, even if it was obvious that they hadn't bonded. Lady Anthea seemed to misinterpret his heightened colour, "And it's fine if you haven't bonded you know. You have the whole honeymoon in front of you after all! Sometimes, people take a little time to get comfortable with each other's bodies before they bond."

John digested this information in silence, thinking that Lady Anthea might be a good source of providing him sexual advice in the future. Definitely better than his mother with her dire predictions and chilling tales.

He was shown the Great Gallery where portraits of several generations of Holmes stared sternly down at him, the Grand Ballroom with its polished floors and huge chandeliers and the many chambers each named after a particular flower and decorated accordingly. In addition to the massive grounds surrounding the house, there was also a huge conservatory where Lady Anthea liked to indulge her love for gardening. By the end of the tour, he was left wide-eyed and exhausted.

Lunchtime came and went and there was still no sign of Sherlock. John wondered where his husband could be. Everyone seemed to think that it was totally normal for him to vanish like this.

After a short nap, John felt more refreshed and decided to track down his Alpha. This proved to be quite a difficult task as he felt he could hardly ask the servants where Sherlock was. Pondering on this, he roamed around the castle with a footman discreetly following him at some distance. John wondered if Mycroft had put him up to it – don't leave the new Omega unattended. It was quite annoying but he supposed just as well in case he got lost. As he walked up the grand staircase and went into the east wing, he suddenly heard the faint strains of the violin. Remembering what Sherlock had said, he quickly moved in the direction where the music appeared to be coming from.

He found Sherlock in what appeared to be a huge attic room. The place was strewn with books and strange odds and ends. John saw two daggers and a blowpipe. There were a few beakers and other scientific equipment on a table in the corner. Facing the big window, framed by the soft evening light, stood Sherlock playing his violin, sheet music on a stand near him. He finished his piece and without turning said, "Hello John".

"Oh hello! There you are", John said a little self-consciously clasping his hands behind his back as he went towards Sherlock.

Sherlock turned around rapidly. "Have you been looking for me? I was just doing some experiments…" He put down his violin and bow and picked up a shoe lying on his table studying it intently.

"Oh, okay. What sort of experiments?" John prompted helpfully.

"I wanted to see if the mud on this shoe comes from upcountry or from near the lake. A man's life depends on it", Sherlock said as if that cleared up everything and sat down to scribble something in a notebook.

"Oh! Okay, good", John said now quite at a loss. He decided now was not the time and changed track. "Err…have you had anything to eat? I didn't see you at breakfast or lunch."

"Eating… eating's boring", was the immediate reply.

Then he looked up at John, at how the light from the setting sun lit up his blond hair. At the disappointed look in those deep blue eyes. "But… we can definitely have dinner together!" Sherlock said standing up and feeling a bit ashamed of his behaviour. "I am sorry to have not been with you earlier. It can't have been easy waking up in a new home. I trust Lady Anthea is taking good care of you and Mycroft is not being very annoying?"

"Lady Anthea has been most amiable. She showed me around the castle today. I saw the Gallery and the Ballroom but there's still so much left to explore", John replied.

"Yes there is isn't it? There is a lot to explore in Paris as well. You must be looking forward to seeing it tomorrow. It is a wonderful city" he said politely as they made their way back downstairs.

 ~O~

John was thrilled to be in Paris. He had heard and read so much about the city and he could hardly believe he was finally there. Thanks to Lord Holmes, Sherlock and he were staying in a fashionable hotel right in the heart of the city. Their rooms were beautifully decorated and John smiled happily till he and Sherlock entered the bed chamber they were to share. The room was dominated by a massive four poster bed with fine lace draperies all around it. All around the room, vases with freshly cut roses were arranged and candles were placed in strategic locations. The ceiling had small cupids sculpted into the corners and the huge paintings on the wall depicted men and women in various stages of artistic undress. The room practically demanded a romantic rendezvous. John could feel his ears burning and he thought he heard Sherlock mutter something that sounded like, "Bloody Mycroft".

"Well John, I must confess something", Sherlock said as he turned back towards the sitting room. He was looking as apologetic as he could manage. "There is reason why I chose to come to Paris. There is a case here that I have been invited to consult on. There have been three suspected murders in the city where the victim appears to have ingested poison by their own hand. Lestrade has suggested my name as a consultant to one of his friends here and I've just found a letter waiting for me which says that there has been another murder! I hope you don't mind if I pop down to meet the Sûreté officers for a bit. You settle in and get comfortable. Go around the city for a bit if you want. I'll be back soon", Sherlock said pulling on his greatcoat and picking up his gloves.

"Oh, fine, of course", John said feeling a bit deflated as Sherlock rushed out like a small tornado. As soon as John had sat down on the sofa however, Sherlock was back in the room.

"You have an interest in medicine do you not?" he asked John quietly as he pulled on his gloves.

"Yes, yes I do", John answered.

"And you are not very squeamish or anything?" Sherlock asked him appraisingly.

"Never fainted in my life I'm afraid!"

"Ever been to the scene of a crime?"

"Oh no, never. Never in my life."

"Would you like to see one?"

"Oh God, yes!" John said earnestly and they were off.

At the crime scene, Sherlock deduced the identity of the dead woman, astounding John and confounding the police as he rattled off his observations. As the day turned to dusk, Sherlock followed the trail of clues led him to a hansom cab he suspected had the killer inside. Sherlock tore through the streets after the cab and John ran after him blindly. They ran up spiral stairs and jumped over rooftops and clambered down pipes and John couldn't remember the last time he had had more fun.

The hansom cab turned out to be empty and they were almost caught by a gendarme for disturbing the peace. Before the man could lay a finger on them, Sherlock exchanged a grin with John and they both took off running again all the way back to their hotel. They finally got back to their rooms gasping with the effort and high on adrenaline.

"That was ridiculous! That was… the most ridiculous thing I have ever done", John said panting.

"Well, you married me!" Sherlock quipped and they both burst out laughing.

When they retired to their bed chamber, the awkwardness of the morning was quite forgotten. The bed was more than large enough for the two of them to share comfortably without bumping arms or legs. "Good night John", Sherlock said softly clasping his hands behind his head and turning to look at his Omega. "Good night Sherlock", John replied smiling, his eyes closed and his body turned towards Sherlock.

Sherlock fell asleep scarcely able to believe that he had a mate who was genuinely interested in his work and wanted to assist him. John fell asleep thinking of how unexpected and thrilling marriage to Sherlock was.

John awoke sometime early the next morning enveloped in the most delicious scent – something which reminded him of honey and smoke. He soon realized that his face was pressed to Sherlock's chest, Sherlock's arms were wrapped around him and a leg was thrown over his thigh. His husband was apparently quite a covetous sleeper. John smiled and nuzzled in deeper.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days saw Sherlock spending time with the Sûreté Nationale, trying to solve the case. However, he made sure to show John the sights of Paris as they went around the city following clues. John was enjoying Paris – its grand monuments, its rich culture, its fashionable people, its exquisite cuisine - and having the time of his life running after Sherlock on his adventures. One moment he was observing the splendour of the Cathedrale de Notre-Dame and the next he was exploring the underground sewers trying to trace a criminal. One moment he was watching the chic people in the streets of Montmartre and the next he was listening to Sherlock deduce their life histories. One evening, as they strolled along the Seine, Sherlock had gifted John a beautiful handcrafted pistol. “You never did answer me, but I deduced that you preferred shooting to fencing, so I got you this. Ahem…as a wedding present”, he said a little shyly. John was thrilled and touched and thanked him with a broad smile.

But though they both wouldn’t admit it, the best part of their day was the early mornings when they woke up wrapped around each other. Sherlock had found that he enjoyed the experience very much indeed and was not in any hurry to disentangle himself from John. John smelled amazing – like bergamot and desert rain. Sherlock enjoyed the man’s company much more than he had expected. He had been forced to be a loner for most of his life as his intelligence and impatience distanced him from people. He found that they did not make a difference when it came to John. He liked explaining his deductions to John and watching the awestruck admiration on his face. He liked to have John running with him and trusted him to watch his back. And so, every night they went to bed keeping a safe distance between them and every morning they awoke entwined around each other. When they got out of bed, both men did not mention the intimacy and acted as if nothing had happened - as though behaving similarly in their waking hours might somehow upset the fragile balance of their newfangled relationship.

Two days before they were to leave Paris, Sherlock found the killer. Unfortunately, the man was a hansom cab driver who kidnapped Sherlock and spirited him away right under the noses of the police. John realized just a fraction of a second too late but by then the cab was racing down the street. John quickly borrowed a gendarme’s horse and started galloping after the cab. It eventually stopped in front of a large mansion. John ran in desperately shouting Sherlock’s name and finally spotted him standing far away in a different wing of the mansion. He was clutching a small bottle that was clearly the poison, in his hands, and the hansom cab driver stood in front of him urging him on. John called out to Sherlock but he was too far away to hear him and was slowly shaking out a pill from the cursed bottle. John did not think twice. He pulled out the pistol Sherlock had gifted him and fired a single shot. The bullet found its mark as the cab driver slumped dead. Sherlock jumped and dropped the poisonous pill he had been about to take. Looking up saw John standing firmly holding on to the smoking pistol.

The two men rushed towards each other and when John reached him, he immediately began scenting him in worry, his Omega nature beginning to overwhelm him.

“Shh…it’s fine John. I’m unharmed. I'm perfectly well”, Sherlock whispered softly enveloping the smaller man in his arms. John shuddered and took deep breaths of Sherlock’s scent.

“And you?” Sherlock asked putting a finger under John’s chin and tilting his face up. John’s face was flushed and his pupils blown. Sherlock could smell the anxiety and anger on him.

“Yes…yes I’m fine”, John said calming down once he had sensed his Alpha was fine and drawing away in some embarrassment.

“Are you certain? You saved my life John. You saved me by killing that man”, Sherlock said sounding amazed.

“Yes, yes. Well… he wasn’t a very good man”, John deadpanned now feeling more like himself.

“Yes, and a bloody awful cabbie”, Sherlock smirked and John burst out giggling. They began walking back their hands clasped tightly together.

~O~

The next morning, John did not feel very well. “Well then you must rest at the hotel. No going out today”, Sherlock said, concerned to see John’s pale face. “I have been rushing you about too much. In fact I think I’ll stay in too.”

“Oh no,” John said, “You should go and finish the formalities at the Prefecture. I’m sure I’ll be fine after a while. Just need a little rest.”

So Sherlock left John in bed feeling a strange twinge in his chest to see him look so weak and small in the big bed. He rushed through his business at the Prefecture his thoughts constantly flitting back to his Omega. He thought of how brave John had been the night before in shooting the hansom cab killer. When he returned to their rooms after a couple of hours, John’s valet rushed up looking relieved to see him and said, “Oh sir, I fear Mr. John has been taken worse! And he won’t let anyone enter the bed chamber!”

Sherlock felt his heart give a funny lurch as he made his way to the bedroom and rapped sharply on the door, “John! John, it’s me. Are you okay?” He heard a soft whimper and without further ado pushed open the door.

Immediately the smell hits him – it was so tantalizing, so delicious, he could feel his brain beginning to lose all rational thought and his body beginning to react. He saw John lying on the bed writhing among the sheets. His face was flushed and sweating and he appeared to be naked.

“Thank goodness, you are finally here!” John said desperately biting his lip. “I…I’m…”

“You’re in Heat, John!” Sherlock whispered in the voice of a man who has found the Promised Land. Before he quite knew what he was doing, Sherlock was on the bed holding down John’s hands and trying to scent his neck. “John…John you smell so good, so very good. I want you, I want you…please”, he said pleadingly as John’s pheromones assailed his senses.

“Yes, Sherlock. Take me, fill me please. I can’t take it any longer”, John panted out, drawing Sherlock closer.

That was all the invitation Sherlock needed. Buttons rolled off onto the hardwood floor and seams ripped as he literally tore off his clothes and got into the bed on top of John. His huge member was already hard and ready, the base thickening to form the knot that would tie him to his Omega. He looked into John’s eyes for a moment and the intimacy of seeing the hungry need in them drove him wild. He captured John’s mouth in a greedy kiss, biting and sucking his lips before pushing his tongue into his Omega’s mouth. He ran his hands across John’s sensitive nipples and dug his nails into his hips. “Mine”, the Alpha in him growled, by now mindless with passion. “Yes, yes, yours, only yours”, John answered him breathlessly, Sherlock’s deep baritone sending shivers of pleasure through his body.

When Sherlock’s roving hands found John’s hole, John mewled loudly and arched his back. He was already dripping wet with want, his body feverish with the need to be filled and owned. Sherlock moved down between his legs and bit down on John’s thighs before putting his face to the leaking entrance and licking. John shuddered and arched up again begging, “Please Sherlock! Take me now. Please!”

“Mine John, you are mine”, Sherlock roared as he turned John onto his stomach and lifting his hips entered him with a sharp, smooth thrust. John gasped and screamed as the pleasure-pain hit him, the sensation of being completely filled so satisfying - like scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach. Sherlock slowly began pumping into him, running his hands over his body and biting his shoulder. He wrapped his big hand around John’s small hard cock and squeezed as John yelped again feeling mindless with pleasure. As Sherlock began pounding in earnest into John, his knot began to inflate. John felt he would split in two from being stretched so much but Sherlock’s hands continued to stroke him and suddenly he was coming so hard he could barely breathe. He exposed his neck to his Alpha, his Omega genes kicking in and Sherlock bit down on John’s neck as his knot locked them together and his seed flooded the Omega’s womb.

~O~

After a little while during which Sherlock had already come several times, some sense seemed to return to them both. Sherlock realized he and John were now locked together by his knot and were lying with Sherlock’s large frame collapsed on top of John uncomfortably. “J-John… I’m going to move us to lie on our side?” he said and receiving a nod from the man, he tried as gently as possible to turn them to the side so that they lay with Sherlock spooning John. The movement still caused some discomfort to John who winced a bit and made Sherlock feel guilty.

“How did this…did you know you were going to have your Heat John?” he asked rubbing his Omega’s chest soothingly. John on his part was also feeling guilty now – he knew Sherlock hadn’t been keen on bonding. “I didn’t know Sherlock. It’s not supposed to happen for another two months”, he said worriedly.

“It’s fine John. We are on our honeymoon after all”, he smiled and nosed John’s neck licking gently at the new bondbite, a warm sense of possessiveness still filling him. Immediately John felt much calmer and when Sherlock moved his hands downwards to fondle John’s already half hard cock he came again in short spurts whimpering loudly, even as Sherlock came again and again inside him.

~O~

Finally by the time the setting sun cast long shadows in the bedroom, Sherlock’s knot had deflated enough for him to slide out of John who had fallen asleep in exhaustion. He sat up in bed and looking at John felt appalled at how rough he had been. John’s neck was covered in bruises and bites and there were teeth marks on his chest and thighs. His hips and arms also looked bruised where he had gripped them tightly. This was just what he had not wanted to do – turn into an animal! But apparently his baser nature had taken over anyway and he had hurt John. He swallowed and smoothed back John’s hair from his forehead. John opened his eyes and looked at him contentedly. He felt sore and very sated, used and thoroughly pleasured.

“I should get us some food, John, you must be…you must be exhausted”, Sherlock said haltingly. Slowly John raised himself up and sat back to look at him. Sherlock looked upset and… ashamed?

“I’m so sorry I hurt you John”, Sherlock continued apologetically as he noted the bite mark on John’s lips. “I…I did not expect it would be so overwhelming…that I would lose control so much.”

“It was our first time together, Sherlock”, John said taking his mate’s hand and looking at him shyly. “And you haven’t hurt me.” Then seeing that Sherlock still looked upset, he tried to distract him, “I don’t think this is a true Heat else we would have started…you know…again. I think maybe my proximity to you triggered it. I read that sometimes being close to an unbonded Alpha can do that.”

“Oh, is that so? Interesting. Maybe the excitement of yesterday also precipitated it?” he asked John thoughtfully.

“Yes, could be. In any case, I feel well enough now. I think it should be quite safe for us to set off for home tomorrow.”

“Right! Home! You will love our townhouse in London. 221B Baker Street. My old governess, Mrs Hudson is looking after the place for us”, Sherlock said excitedly his eyes lighting up.

John smiled back indulgently at his bondmate suppressing an urge to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it not be said that I did not try!
> 
> And thanks to sighing_selkie for the suggestion about bergamot. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Howard Watson was worried. In the two weeks since John's grand wedding, news of a disturbing nature had reached his ears via some 'well-meaning' sources.

His son-in-law Sherlock Holmes was apparently held to be a bit eccentric by the more polite and downright sociopathic by others. He was unsociable, rude and there were rumours that he indulged in strange experiments involving dead bodies and body parts. That was the reason why he had been unmarried even at the age of six and twenty and despite having such a good family name. He had also rejected most of the eligible suits brought to him leaving the Omegas in tears in most cases.

Howard Watson was shrewd enough to dismiss most of these reports as arising out of jealousy but they had put some nagging fears in his mind that would not be assuaged till he saw John with his own eyes. Lydia Watson had already had a round of hysterics when a couple of her cronies had let slip that Sherlock was a man given over to occult and unnatural practices and could read minds. She cried for her 'poor boy' and berated her husband for marrying him off for a title.

And so it turned out that Howard and Lydia Watson decided to show up in 221B Baker Street on the day Sherlock and John returned to London.

On reaching his new home, John had been greeted warmly by Mrs. Hudson who was a sweet old lady intent on making Sherlock and him comfortable. She also appeared to be one of the few people Sherlock cared for and his interactions with her clearly reflected his deep affection. Sherlock proudly showed John around the large house and John fell in love with its cosy, homely feel. It was a bit run down and cluttered with Sherlock's books, his experiments and other odds and ends but John found that he liked that just fine. He had a separate bedroom to himself once more but he secretly hoped he wouldn't have to sleep alone too much.

Ever since their bonding, Sherlock and John's scents had become much stronger and imbued with the other's aroma proclaiming to the world that they were bonded. John also felt like he could sense Sherlock – his moods, his presence – much better now and he wondered whether the same had happened to Sherlock. However, despite their passionate bonding, Sherlock and he continued to treat each other more as good friends than bondmates. They might touch each other a bit more and smell each other unconsciously but their conversation remained restricted to friendly banter and discussions about cases. Sherlock was not a demonstrative man and he was quite happy that bonding had not changed the comfort level he had established with John. John was still trying to work out the dynamics of a relationship which had essentially been thrust upon them and content to let things sort themselves out.

John was thinking of this as he looked in the mirror after his bath, lightly touching the bruises Sherlock had made on his body. His valet had been of course trained to be discreet and did not utter a word as he helped John. But John had still been conscious and worn high collared coats and cravats at his throat and ruffles on his wrist on their journey. Now he was just putting on his shirt when Mrs. Hudson announced that his parents had come to visit and were waiting in the sitting room. John was filled with a sudden gladness realizing how much he missed his home and his father. He threw on a dressing gown and rushed down to where his parents awaited him.

"Father!" John cried and ran to embrace him as the old man turned towards him. "Mama", he said affectionately hugging his mother in turn.

"Johnny! Let me look at you my boy!" his father boomed out, "How are you son?"

"Oh, I am fine Father! I have just got back from Paris today you know and I am so happy to see you both. I have missed you", John said simply with a smile on his face.

His parents had been looking carefully at him and now they turned to exchange a glance with one another.

His father cleared his throat and spoke meaningfully, "So you are happy John? Sherlock is treating you well?"

"Yes of course Father", John answered readily before he realized his father was looking at his bruises. He blushed deeply and turned away wishing he had dressed fully before rushing in. Now his parents could see the bondbite and the other bruises on his neck and lips. John took a deep breath and turned back to his father, thinking philosophically that it hardly mattered now if his parents or anyone else saw the bondbite. "Sherlock is treating me very well. We had a wonderful time in Paris."

"Oh John!" his mother rushed in misinterpreting John's heightened colour, his awkwardness and the marks on him. "Has he been unkind to you? I can see you have bonded with him and clearly it has been as I feared! Don't worry my boy, Father will talk to him. He will not be allowed to treat you this way!"

Before John could say anything, a familiar baritone broke in, "Who will not be allowed to treat John in what way?" Sherlock had entered the room and was now stood looking at them quizzically. "Good afternoon Mr. Watson…Madam", he said making a deep bow before Lydia who looked utterly nonplussed. "I have just been out riding for a bit. We just got back from Paris today, as John must have told you", Sherlock said going to stand near John.

"Err…yes, yes I was just telling them that. Why don't I ring for some tea", said John trying to diffuse the tension in the room which he felt sure Sherlock had picked up on.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes", Howard Watson said in tight voice, completely ignoring John. "I was just asking John if he was doing well and if he was happy. He appears to be a little…battered…by his trip to Paris."

Sherlock stood still, his face wiped clean of any emotion. "We are bonded now, sir, as you can no doubt observe. It is my duty to take care of him and I assure you that I am fully capable of doing the same", he said coldly.

Howard Watson let the matter rest, feeling that he had dropped enough of a warning. He also rather thought that John had been looking happy so probably there was no real reason to worry. In any case, he had more important things to discuss. "I am sure…I am sure! I had also hoped, sir that the time has come to introduce my son into Polite Society. It is part of my agreement with your brother – my son is to receive all the privileges due to a man of distinction", he said insensitively. John winced but Sherlock said in that same cool voice, "Of course, Mr. Watson. My brother has spoken to me about this and we plan to present John to the Prince Regent at a ball being held the next week."

"If there is anything you need…for his clothes and such do let me know. I will have some things sent over in any case, John. And maybe some new decorations for this house as well. It could use some brighter wallpaper and curtains. And maybe one of those newfangled baths for John…" Howard Watson said musingly oblivious to the increasingly thunderous look on Sherlock's face.

"I thank you for your kind offer, sir", Sherlock bit out, "but I do think that I will be able to provide for my Omega. Your assistance in…restoring Sherrinford Castle is much appreciated but I hope that I will be able to manage on my own now. And that John will come to me if he needs anything." John turned to look at Sherlock reading the anger coming off him and seeing his face tighten. Sherlock would not turn to look at him. "And now if you will excuse me sir, I have an appointment at my club", saying this, he bowed stiffly and left the room.

John was bewildered and conscious that they had done something wrong. He said quickly, "Father, I…I have to speak to Sherlock. Please don't mind but I will visit you and mother tomorrow. You are staying at the Abercrombie Street house, yes?" He nodded and walked away at a fast clip leaving a taken aback Howard Watson staring after him.

John found Sherlock pulling on his gloves near the door. His eyes flashed fire and he was clearly very angry. John ran up to him and said tentatively, "Sherlock…? I'm sorry…are you…?" Sherlock glowered at him and then said roughly, "Library. Now!" Sherlock marched towards the library and John struggled to keep pace with Sherlock's long stride, having to run a little after him. Once the door closed behind them, Sherlock struggled against his feelings of hurt and anger. He had really thought that John was different, he liked John. And he had thought John liked him too. But it seemed he had been foolish to assume that. He had been guilty of sentiment. And sentiment had no place in a marriage of convenience. He took a deep breath and turned to John.

"I had not realized you were so unhappy with me John. My apologies for the inconvenience I have caused you with my… attentions during your Heat. Henceforth, I will endeavour to stay as far from you as possible so that your family has no cause for complaining that their dowry has not been well invested", Sherlock said to John his eyes blazing and his back rigid. "I would also request you to let me know if there is anything you need. My resources may seem limited but I will make every effort to ensure that you have every comfort you could desire. I am your Alpha and I will take care of you."

"What?" John cried out stunned. "No, what are you saying? I am…I am not…I am not unhappy with you Sherlock and your attentions are not…unwelcome. I have not spoken a word against you to my parents. They just saw me and assumed… it's all just a misunderstanding! I love this house and I love…I am happy being your Omega! Please believe me!" John implored grabbing Sherlock's arm. The distress in his voice was all too palpable for Sherlock and looking into John's glistening eyes, his anger slowly began to cool.

"So you don't want me to stay away?"

"No Sherlock! How could I ever want that? I am your Omega remember? Yours! I would have explained if either of you Alphas had cared to listen to me", John said fretfully. "My father is…just a little too protective about me. It is only his misplaced love and concern for me which has prompted him to say what he did. And if you don't want it, we don't have to accept any favours from him!" He felt uncomfortably close to tears and was trying his best to compose himself.

Sherlock came closer to him, drawn to comfort his Omega by the bond between them. John breathed a little deeper drawing in his Alpha's scent and looked up trying to read his face. Sherlock pressed even closer against him, crowding into his space, till John felt the big table against the back of his legs and gripped it with both hands to keep from falling. Sherlock's hypnotic eyes seemed to look into his soul and for a moment he could only hear the sound of their breathing. Then Sherlock dipped his head and captured John's mouth in a deep kiss slowly opening up John's mouth, sucking, nibbling and playing with his tongue. He whispered 'Mine' against his mate's mouth and ran his long fingers lightly down his shoulders and arms. He fingers tightened over John's wrists as he licked the bondbite, eliciting a moan from the Omega. When they parted, John was breathless and Sherlock looked smugly satisfied. He had noted John's dilated pupils and elevated pulse.

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to upset you", Sherlock said, now feeling more calm, as he stepped away from him. "Your father has every right to be concerned about your wellbeing. I just don't like to feel beholden to anyone if I can help it."

"I...I understand", John said doing up his robe which had come untied. He was feeling more than a little aroused by the mind-blowing kiss. "I'll…I'll speak to Father and sort this out. And what's all this about me being presented to the Court?"

"Hmm... yes we'll need to prepare for that" Sherlock said, already distracted. "And I have a new case John. Stolen treasures from the Orient. Interested?"

"Always", John said looking up with a broad grin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for showing this story so much love! :)

John paid a visit to his parents’ London home, reiterating that he was absolutely fine and they had no cause for worry. He also tried to gently tell his father that his more expensive gifts might not be well received by his husband. However, providing every luxury to John was a project Howard Watson could not be easily dissuaded from. John could not bear to hurt his father’s feelings or appear ungrateful so he decided to handle the matter tactfully when the need arose. 

Sherlock meanwhile had been at the receiving end of some more barbs regarding John – this time from Mycroft. Lord and Lady Holmes were currently residing at their home in Grosvenor Square and had come down for dinner to Baker Street. Mycroft’s sharp eyes did not miss a trick and when he had a moment alone with his brother, he murmured with an exasperated air, “Do try not to be such a savage with him the next time.” Sherlock turned red and searched for a suitably cutting retort but Mycroft had already moved away to where their Omegas were seated. John spent a pleasant time chatting with Lady Anthea who was making grand plans for his Court dress. She promised to take him shopping and he didn’t like to tell her that it didn’t interest him in the least.

When they retired for the night, John had just snuggled into his huge bed when Sherlock knocked a bit diffidently on John’s door and entered. “Ahem, John I was thinking that we should investigate the effects of sleeping together a bit more. You know…for science”, he said.

“Yes, of course”, John said with a grin as he threw back the covers to let Sherlock get in. John blew out the candle beside the bed and said, “Goodnight Sherlock” as he sunk into the pillows. After a few moments he suddenly felt an icy foot rub up against his. “Oh, your feet are cold!”

“Well then, your body heat is the best way to warm them” Sherlock said, sliding even closer and putting his arm around John’s chest. John hummed happily as Sherlock buried his face in his neck. “John”, he said, his deep voice almost a purr, “I also think if we are to be more controlled and better prepared during your Heat, then we require more…practice.” John’s heart quickened and he turned so that they lay face to face. “Yes”, he said simply.

Sherlock was almost unbearably gentle that night. In the warm glow of light cast by the fireplace, he slowly disrobed John and began to map out every inch of his exposed body with his fingers and lips. He teased with licks and nibbles and rubbed his hard body against John’s till the man let out a loud groan and spread his legs wantonly. He fingered him and gently began stretching him till John was wet and gasping and felt like he would come without being penetrated at all. When he finally lifted John’s hips and entered him, he waited to let John’s body adjust to his length before rocking slowly back and forth at a tantalizing pace. John looked into those blue eyes now almost turned black, dug his fingers into that gorgeous pale body and cried out as he came against his belly. That sound and the look on John’s face pushed Sherlock to pound more fiercely till he spilled inside John too.

 

After that, Sherlock spent almost every night with John. He memorized the man’s body and all his erogenous zones. He experimented with different positions to see what worked best for him and for John. Some nights they made love repeatedly and fell asleep in exhaustion only in the early morning hours. John awoke with circles under his eyes and a smile on his lips. Sherlock went about feeling much more kindly disposed to the world than usual. John thought with a smile, that for a man who had claimed not to want a bond, his husband could be pretty insatiable. In fact, Sherlock brought to his love-making the same intensity and sense of curiosity that he put into his Work. 

His latest case had come through an old acquaintance of his, Lord Sebastian Wilkes. Lord Wilkes had invited Sherlock to his home to investigate the matter of the stolen Oriental artifacts. He was surprised when Sherlock showed up with John. 

“Oh, I heard you got married, Holmes, though I could scarce believe it!” he said winking at him and leering at John. “But now you are dragging your Omega on your mad adventures too!”

“John is my partner. He assists me”, Sherlock said repressively. “Who all were present in the mansion when you discovered the jade hairpin missing?” he asked changing the topic and eager to get on with his investigation.

The case had involved a surprisingly tedious amount of work and Sherlock and John spent a lot of time ploughing through the voluminous tomes in the Wilkes library trying to break a secret code used by a gang of thieves. Sherlock on a case was like a man possessed. He worked tirelessly and with a manic energy, piecing together a trail from clues which only his eyes were clever enough to see. John acted as his sounding board and kept him from the black moods which afflicted the detective when he couldn’t get a breakthrough. Sharing a bed with John went a long way in calming Sherlock’s frazzled nerves when his mind went too fast for his body. On those nights, he would curl up his long limbs into a ball and snuggle against John who would stroke his hair and rub soothing circles into his back trying to bring him comfort.

~O~ 

Fortunately Sherlock cracked the case soon enough because John had to be launched in polite society formally and he could hardly track criminals by night and go shopping during the day. Lady Anthea took John to the tailors and he ended up with several new sets of waistcoats, dress shirts, pantaloons and the like, despite his protestations. Thanks to Lord Holmes’s significant connections, entry to the exclusive Carlton Drawing Rooms, where the Prince Regent was to attend, was procured and a party consisting of Lord and Lady Holmes was to accompany Sherlock and John to the ball there. 

John was beginning to feel quite apprehensive about going and Sherlock was looking forward to it even less. It was just the kind of social gathering he abhorred - with its snooty society dames, its eager young debutantes and its pretentious dandies. He said it made for too much stupid in the room. However he knew it was important that John be launched properly if he were to ever be considered part of polite society. He also realized that he owed it to Howard Watson to do all he could to establish John in the best circles.

On the day of the ball, Sherlock himself supervised John’s dressing and expertly tied his snowy white cravat in the Waterfall style. His coat had been exquisitely cut by Weston and his legs were sheathed in tight fawn pantaloons. John knew his husband had excellent taste and carried his clothes beautifully so he was more than happy to take his advice. His parents had also shown up to watch their son reach the peak of what they perceived as social accomplishment. Sherlock and his father were civil to each other both of them having secretly regretted the cold tone of their last meeting. Mycroft’s presence also helped to smooth ruffled feathers. 

Howard Watson had brought along what he called a ‘little something’ – a watch and fob chain crafted delicately in gold – for John to wear. John looked anxiously at Sherlock but seeing his smile, accepted his father’s gift. However, when Howard suggested that John wear his diamond cravat pin and emerald and ruby rings which he had received at his wedding, Lady Anthea intervened tactfully. “We don’t want John to look like he is showing off. Everyone will think he is trying too hard.” With that Howard Watson’s vicarious ambition had to be content and he waved goodbye with a good deal of excitement as the Holmeses left for the ball.

At the ball, John was introduced to all the Holmes’ acquaintances and friends. They were all polite to John who felt like he had wandered into a different world. The men were tall, handsome and sophisticated and the ladies were gorgeous, beautifully dressed and styled. It was nothing like the homely country gatherings he had been used to. As he walked around, arm in arm with Sherlock, several people lifted up their quizzing glasses to study him as he passed and he caught a few raised eyebrows. No doubt everyone was curious about the City banker’s son Sherlock had been forced to marry, John thought. John stood a bit straighter and smiled politely at them, squashing his insecurities and feeling reassured by Sherlock’s hand patting his. Sherlock was being amazingly charming with everyone around them, complimenting the Omegas and laughing with the Alphas. John realized that he was probably doing it for his sake – so that John would be accepted more easily into society. 

When they finally made their bows to the Prince Regent, John was aware of a sense of anti-climax. The prince was a plump, florid man not at all as dashing as he was made out to be in the old wives tales. He seemed to like John however and clapped Sherlock on the shoulder saying that he had found himself a fine Omega. He invited them both to sit next to him and spoke to Sherlock about some ‘personal’ portraits that had fallen into the wrong hands. John gathered that Sherlock had helped him out of a difficult situation earlier as well and looked on proudly at his husband as the Prince asked for his assistance. Sherlock had never looked more handsome he thought. His hair artfully arranged in soft curls, his grey blue eyes sparkling, his sharp cheekbones and that soft, full rosy mouth. Sherlock seemed to pick up on John’s scrutiny and sent a small smile his way as John blushed and tried to concentrate.

When they finally moved away from the Prince, Sherlock whispered to him, “You are doing wonderfully John. And now that the Prince likes you, you’re established in society. You’ll be flooded with invitations tomorrow.” 

Sherlock handed him into Lady Anthea’s care and went to speak with Lord Gregory Lestrade who had just entered. John was introduced to Miss Mary Hooper, Lady Holmes’ good friend. “Just call me Molly”, she said shyly, her brown eyes twinkling and John liked her immediately. She revealed that she had known Sherlock all her life and praised his detecting work, his intelligence and finally his eyes, before realizing she was speaking to his Omega. “Oh…sorry”, she said awkwardly putting her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean…I mean…” “It’s okay, Molly”, John said more amused than offended. It was not surprising to him that these high born Omegas should also have a tendresse for Sherlock.

Molly pointed out Beau Brummell to him and John was impressed by the sight of the famous man of fashion. He was even partnered by him when they danced the quadrille and found the man full of entertaining stories. After this high social sanction, John was besieged with requests to dance and he knew his debut had been successful. But he was happiest when he danced with his Alpha and they orbited each other, matching steps to the music and looking into each other’s eyes... 

When after a long night, John and Sherlock finally climbed into their coach to head home, John could safely say that he had quite enjoyed himself and he definitely had several stories to tell his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with a lovely image by abutterflymind here:  
> http://labellecreation.livejournal.com/36944.html


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock had been right as usual. In the days following the ball John was inundated with invitations to attend parties and received several morning visitors. Under Lady Anthea's guidance, he went for quite a few of the parties and had to return all the social calls. While John quite enjoyed meeting new people, he also tried to persuade Sherlock to join him without much success. "You know, I don't like ordinary people John. Their heads are filled with all kinds of nonsense. But you get along fine with them and you should use this opportunity to mingle", was Sherlock's reply to his entreaties.

At the prestigious Almack's Assembly Rooms, Sherlock had grown steadily restless and bored and finally begun deducing everyone making John giggle, till Lady Anthea in an uncharacteristic display of firmness, gave both of them a setdown. "Sherlock! You will kindly remember your manners before you alienate everyone in this room and ruin John's chances of acceptance. And John! You are here to socialize not stand in a corner giggling with your Alpha!" Sherlock and John looked at each other, snorted trying to control their chuckles and after a deathly glare from Anthea, parted company. Sherlock left soon after that and on the way back, John had to listen to a lecture from Lady Holmes about Omegas who clung to their Alphas all the time.

Even John had to agree that dragging an unwilling Sherlock to social events might not be for the best when he almost got called out to a duel after telling Lord Selfridge at a garden party, that his wife was cheating on him with their stable boy. Thankfully, Lord Lestrade had been at hand to defuse the situation and pack off a sulking Sherlock and worried John home. After that, John let Sherlock do his experiments while he went out on different social engagements. Occasionally Sherlock accompanied him but more often he preferred to be left to his own devices.

John rode out to Hyde Park in his phaeton every other morning at the fashionable hour. Here he met several of his new friends and made some more. The promenade in the Park was largely an excuse to see and be seen. The Alphas – Corinthians, Dandies, Whips – tried to discreetly ogle and flirt with the Omega beauties who came dressed in their best morning dresses and cast coy looks under their parasols. Lady Anthea and Molly Hooper usually met John here and shared some of the more interesting bits of gossip about the ladies and gentlemen whom they saw there.

To John, the aristocratic class seemed to be a hotbed of scandals and affairs – on the outside, there was much emphasis on propriety while in private, quite licentious behaviour was practiced. Most of the Alphas, whether young or old, male or female, married or unmarried, appeared to have taken one or more mistresses. One of the more interesting scenes John saw was the elderly lech Sir Anderson being confronted with both his wife and his mistress while driving in the park. It had not ended well for him.

John was also bit surprised to find that a few married Omegas also had a devoted coterie of Alpha admirers. Apparently it was a done thing in the highest circles, with the Omegas finding this a good way to keep themselves amused and with a ready partner to escort them around when their Alpha couldn't spare the time. Indeed John himself had received visits and posies from a few Alphas at 221B Baker Street. He had quickly disabused them by deflecting the conversation to severely practical matters the moment they appeared to become amorous. One day, Sherlock had come upon one of these unfortunate gentlemen waiting for John in the parlour and had deduced him to within an inch of his life. And then made fierce love to John in the middle of the day. An entirely satisfactory situation as far as John was concerned.

~O~

At a tea party hosted by Lady Anthea, Molly excitedly told John about her new admirer, "I do so want you to meet him John. He is so, so dashing and kind. And he really seems to like me", she revealed.

"Oh, good for you Molly!" John said. "I look forward to meeting him."

Sherlock was looking utterly bored and sitting at the table scribbling something in his notebook while John stood by trying to get him to eat the sandwiches, when Molly came up to them with a gleam in her eye and her hand around a man's arm.

"Hello! Sherlock, John…May I present Mr. James Moriarty. He is an academic with a keen interest in the sciences…like you Sherlock", Molly said looking at Sherlock for some sign of approval. "And Jim, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his Omega, Mr. John Watson."

"Hello…so you are the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. Are you working on one of your cases?" Moriarty asked, moving closer to Sherlock. He was a slightly built man with a rather nondescript face and an apologetic look about him. Sherlock had looked up when Molly approached them but now he was back to scribbling in his book and made no reply. John cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up at Moriarty with a blatantly false smile and said, "Yes. Hello", before going back to his notebook.

James Moriarty looked admiringly at him and moving closer, knocked off a book from the table. He scrambled to pick it up laughing nervously and apologizing as he handed it back to an irritated looking Sherlock.

"Well, I think we'll be going then… see you around", Molly said her enthusiasm clearly dampened by Sherlock's behaviour.

"Yes. It was nice to meet you", Moriarty told Sherlock expectantly.

The silence stretched awkwardly before John replied on his recalcitrant Alpha's behalf, "And you too."

Moriarty looked a bit uncertain as he smiled at John and escorted Molly away.

"Charming. Well done", John said vexed, once they were out of earshot.

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked up in some surprise. "Oh that… Don't bother. That man may be an Alpha but he prefers other Alphas in his bed. He'll never marry Molly."

"What?!"

Sherlock sighed. "He has styled himself as a very Tulip of Fashion – the points of his shirt collar are so high they almost touch his cheeks and his cravat is so stiffly starched that he can barely move his neck around. More interestingly, he has used an Omega scent on himself in the last twenty hour hours though he has tried to wash it off before he came for this party. Right now, he was discreetly sniffing me despite there being two omegas around. And there's the extremely suggestive fact that he left his card in the book here", Sherlock said plucking said card out of the book. "So. Clearly not interested in Molly. I was just being kind by not encouraging him."

"Kind? No, that was not kind Sherlock! Molly felt bad about the way you behaved and you should apologize to her!"

"Apologize?!" Sherlock looked taken aback, then shook his head and sighed, already fed up with the conversation. "Oh, forget this John. Look here", he said showing him his notebook. "The new case I'm working on – someone has stolen important military plans from Sir Bruce Partington. According to my calculations, it should be one of these people."

"Oh? So how are you going to find out who has taken the plans?"

"We are going to find out, my dear John. As soon as this dreadful party is over, we will go pay a visit to Sir Bruce. He is a friend of Mycroft's. Don't look at me like that…I'm not doing this for him!"

"Never said you were", John grinned and prepared to quickly polish off his sandwich.

~O~

The Case of the Bruce Partington Plans, as John thought of it, was not going very smoothly and Sherlock was struggling to put together the solution. On this evening, he sat staring into space plucking the strings of his violin moodily while John sat writing in his journal. John had the habit of maintaining a diary since childhood, but it was only after marriage that his journals had become infinitely more interesting. He wrote up the cases in which he participated with Sherlock and thought that maybe someday, they could be published in book form. Some part of him felt that his Alpha's brilliance needed to be preserved for posterity.

The footman came and announced that dinner had been laid. They did not eat very formally in Baker Street when they were not entertaining and John preferred a few items rather than several courses that would likely go to waste. Like most days, when John roused Sherlock he said irritably, "I'm not hungry. I need to think."

John had anticipated this. His Alpha seemed to think that his body was just transport and often abstained from food and slept poorly, especially when on a trying case. For all his brilliance, the man was no better than a child sometimes, John thought fondly. "Well then, you can give me company while I eat", he said imperturbably and turned towards the dining room. Sherlock rose with an exaggerated sigh and followed John.

"I'm not eating today", he glumly told Mrs. Hudson as she came to lay a plate for him. At a nod from John, she smiled and left them alone. John piled his own plate with some cuts of roast beef and potatoes and began to eat as Sherlock poured himself some wine.

"Hmmm…so Sherlock, I never did get around to asking… how exactly did you figure out that Edward Van Coon was involved in stealing those artifacts?" John asked between bites.

"Oh that was extremely simple…" Sherlock said looking more cheerful and began explaining, always glad to elucidate his thought processes and impress John.

"Oh, is that so", John nodded as he ate, looking admiringly at Sherlock. He speared a piece of meat with his fork and took it to Sherlock's mouth, "Well that was just… Here have this it's delicious. That was just fantastic! I mean no one else could have figured that out just by looking at the location of the secret code! But how did you know he was left handed?" Sherlock chewed quickly eager to get along with his explanations.

During his second explanation John managed to feed him a few more bites from his plate. "And what about the military plans Sherlock? Do you think they're still in the country?" John asked innocently as he moved on to the pigeon pie. Sherlock got up from his chair and paced about the room, gesticulating while he explained and occasionally clutching at his hair. His perambulations always brought him back to John who was ready with another morsel and another question for Sherlock. And so it continued, John feeding Sherlock while the man deduced his case and thought aloud and labored under the impression that he was skipping dinner.

John knew that Sherlock had a bit of a sweet tooth so moving on to the pudding was quite easy. Sherlock was even licking his lips unconsciously, John saw, and hid a smile. Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes lit up and he burst out, "I have it John! It has to be with Sir Partington's secretary. He was the only one who had access to the plans though he doesn't know it himself! Oh brilliant, brilliant!" he capered about the room excitedly before focusing on John who sat holding up a spoon of pudding. "What's this? Pudding? Have you been feeding me John? I feel quite full. You know I don't eat when I'm on a case. It slows down my thinking."

John smiled and licked a bit of pudding from the spoon, "Looks like it hastened your thinking this time! You can't starve yourself for your cases, you know. I won't let you."

"Well then… you'll just have to keep on feeding me, I suppose", Sherlock grinned affectionately as he bent down to lick the spoon clean before kissing John quite thoroughly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for letting me know that you are enjoying this story! Your feedback and appreciation is what keeps me going.
> 
> Thanks also to those who have shared/recc'd this story and helped it get a wider audience. Much love.

Despite now being exposed to so many aristocratic Alphas, John couldn't imagine wanting anyone else but Sherlock. He may not have had a say in choosing his Alpha, but if he had, he would have chosen Sherlock every time, he thought. He was dangerous and exciting and life felt like a grand adventure when he was around. John also felt he needed to be around to protect him, which was a strange thing for an Omega to feel for their Alpha. It was usually the other way round.

He was looking forward to his fast approaching Heat and hoped he would conceive Sherlock's child – it would be the truest way to seal their bond. Then again, taking care of Sherlock was sometimes not very different from taking care of a child, John thought as he looked up from his journal. His Alpha was rushing about the drawing room trying to contain some bubbling liquid in a beaker. There was an explosion and John turned with a sigh to see a pouting Sherlock with the remains of the broken beaker in his hand. John knew it was not the fashion among members of the _ton_ to fall in love with their own husbands.

But then, John thought with a smile as he wiped a smudge off Sherlock's cheek, he had never been very fashionable.

~O~

Late one evening, Sherlock strode into his room as John was getting dressed. At a signal from John, his valet bowed and left them alone. Sherlock immediately made his way to John who was standing in front of the cheval glass adjusting his cravat and wrapped his arms around John from behind. He began sniffing John's neck and jaw and nibbled his earlobe.

"Sherlock… I'm trying to tie my cravat", John said in mild exasperation.

"John, your Heat will begin soon", Sherlock rumbled against his neck and let go of him after a final lick to the bondbite.

"Yes…should be another four days, I think", John agreed throwing aside his crumpled neckcloth and picking up a fresh one.

"We should prepare."

"Prepare?"

"Yes. We won't be stepping out for three days. So I have to take care of my pending work, you should see that you have not accepted any engagements during that time, the servants need to be instructed, food and water…"

"You've really thought this through!" John interrupted him and caught his eye in the mirror.

"Well yes, I did tell you I wanted to be prepared this time. In fact…are you going somewhere? I don't think you should be going anywhere this close to your Heat…you smell absolutely delicious", Sherlock said going over to flop down on the bed and grinning at him suggestively.

"Oh no, not now, Mr. Holmes", John said fumbling with his cravat. "I have to go for Lady Sefton's soiree. Harry and my friend, Stamford…you remember Stamford? They are going to be there and I've promised I'll meet them."

"But Joooohnnn…I'm bored", Sherlock said petulantly.

"No Sherlock. I've promised and I must go", John said firmly. "But I'll be back soon enough and then I'll take care of you", he smiled and added with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, please John! You'll take care of me? You can't even tie your cravat", Sherlock snorted indignantly as he bounced off the bed and went to his Omega. He took the cravat from John's hands and proceeded to tie it around his neck skillfully.

"Thank you very much!" John said smiling and donned his coat. He turned his face up to a sulking Sherlock and grabbing the lapels of his coat said, "Now give me a kiss like a good Alpha."

Sherlock's lip quirked and he bent down to kiss John and scent him for good measure.

"I'll be back soon, love", John said softly as he left, colouring a little at the endearment which had escaped him. Sherlock gave him a strange look but said nothing.

After John left, Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and went back to thinking about his latest case, the murder of renowned society hostess, Miss Constance Prince. Whether it was the stolen military plans, the case of the forged Reynolds painting or the murder of Miss Prince, when caught, all the accused had claimed that they had been coached on the best way to do the job. No one however seemed to know the identity of the man who was running this little show – they only interacted via mysterious letters and furtive encounters with some of his minions. Sherlock had been suspecting for some time that there was a common hand behind the recent cases he had been lured to – someone was playing a game with him.

The information he received from the Baker Street Irregulars had also suggested something similar. The Irregulars were a bunch of street urchins whom Sherlock paid to provide him with vital clues about his cases. The raggedy bunch was invaluable in getting information and Sherlock thought of them as his eyes and ears across the city.

It was time to take the bull by its horns, Sherlock thought gleefully as he jumped up and rushed out with the germ of an idea in his head. In a quiet alley, he met with Wiggins, the head of his Irregulars and asked him to pass on a message through his network. Sherlock Holmes was inviting the criminal mastermind, for that is what he was, to a meeting near the Carl Fountains at midnight. He pretended he had a problem for which he needed 'guidance' and promised rich rewards. Sherlock waited for his midnight rendezvous with a small smile on his lips and a gleam in his eyes – it looked like he might finally have a worthy adversary.

At the appointed hour, he reached the Carl Fountains. The fountains, and the maze of gardens surrounding them, had at one time been quite popular but had been upstaged by Vauxhall and Ranelagh. The fashionable people had discovered greener grass, so to speak, and now it only served as a clandestine meeting place for lovers and for truant schoolboys who liked to swim in the pond. At this hour of the night however, the place was deserted, illuminated only by the warm light from the gas lamps and the cold moon.

"Anyone there?" Sherlock said loudly as he walked around, his greatcoat fluttering behind him in the breeze. For a while all he could hear was the rustling of the leaves and the sound of his own footsteps, as he peered into the shadows. Then suddenly he heard John's voice.

"Good evening, Sherlock", John said quietly as he appeared at the entrance to a small arbor. He was still in his evening dress and wearing his capes. He looked flushed and had a piece of paper in his hand.

Sherlock looked at him in shock, "John! What in hell…!" His Omega was the last person he had expected to see there. He had left a note for John saying that he would be late and thought John would be in bed at Baker Street by now.

"This is quite a turn-up isn't it Sherlock?" John read from the paper. Slowly from the shadows, the business end of a revolver appeared close to John's head. John's face was the picture of despair as he continued reading from the paper, "I'll wager anything that you didn't expect this! Your little Omega reading out my words, following my commands, completely in my control…to…to do with as I wish." John's voice broke on the last words as the revolver began to lazily press against his temple.

"Stop it!" Sherlock roared in anger. "Who are you?"

"I left you my card. I thought you might call", said a plaintive voice as James Moriarty emerged from the shadows holding the gun to John's head. Sherlock looked at him stunned. Gone was the man's naive air and clueless personality. The man now nudging John towards him was immaculately groomed but with no sign of the dandy about him. He looked very much in control and had a murderous look in his eyes.

"So Mr. Sherlock Holmes, we meet again! You remember me? Jim, Molly Hooper's Jim? Or did I make such a fleeting impression?" Moriarty asked coyly. "But then I suppose that was rather the point."

Sherlock quickly drew out the pistol he had been concealing in his coat and aimed it at Moriarty with both hands. "So you are the one behind all this. You are the… consulting criminal!" Sherlock said softly.

Moriarty was unfazed. "I have just given you a glimpse of what I have going on out there in the big bad world. I am a specialist…as you have guessed…like you! And no one has ever got to me. You've come the closest… but now you're in my way!" His voice dropped menacingly and he snarled, "If you don't stop prying, Sherlock, I'll burn you. I'll burn… the heart out of you!"

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one", Sherlock said, fighting to keep his voice calm even as his Alpha instincts urged him to rip Moriarty from John's side.

"But we both know that's not quite true!" Moriarty said smugly, looking from Sherlock to John. "Your little Omega is going into Heat isn't he? He smells like it." Sherlock's eyes moved involuntarily to lock with John. The distress on his face drove Sherlock wild.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Sherlock shouted ferociously his anger turning into a red rage. He could smell John from where he stood and his scent had indeed changed. He was clearly in the early stages of Heat and his pheromones hung heavy in the night air. His face was flushed and his eyes looked feverish. Every molecule in Sherlock's body was asking him to shield his Omega at this sensitive time from the threatening Alpha. Bonded Omegas could only mate successfully with their bondmate. Bond severance occurred automatically if a bonded Omega mated with anyone else. Mating with another Alpha, especially if forced, caused them severe trauma. Occasionally the encounter could be fatal. Sherlock's blood ran cold at the thought.

"So what shall I do with him Sherlock? He will make such a good little pet, won't he?" he asked getting close enough to smell John. Sensing an opportunity, John elbowed him in the ribs and gripping Moriarty's gun hand, moved quickly to twist it behind him and wrap an arm around his neck.

"Sherlock, run!" John shouted.

Sherlock looked at John in surprise but didn't move and kept the gun aimed at Moriarty. Before he could do more, two masked men, clearly Moriarty's accomplices emerged from the shadows behind him. One placed a pistol to his head while another took away his gun and pulled his hands behind him. Sherlock sighed in frustration and John released Moriarty and backed away raising his hands.

Moriarty dusted off his coat and gestured to it indignantly, "Weston!" Then he pointed the gun straight at John and smiled unpleasantly, "Your Omega is so touchingly loyal, Sherlock! But now he will have to pay for that little act of defiance!"

He slithered closer to John, pressed the muzzle of the gun beneath his jaw and whispered loudly in his ear, "You smell sooo… ripe! I'll make sure that you remember this Heat for the rest of your short miserable life…"

His wolfish grin widened at the look of terror on John's face...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I wouldn't strive too hard for historical accuracy but I still found myself doing some research on the Regency period. What can I say? It was just too interesting to pass up! You may have observed some of the fruits of my labour in the preceding chapters. I am too lazy to highlight all the Regency touches I've employed but for this chapter at least, I would like to explain some of the words used.
> 
> Ton: Term used to refer to the high society of the time. It comes from the French word meaning "taste". The ton were very class conscious and followed a rigid set of manners.
> 
> cheval glass: Full length dressing mirror which could be tilted in its frame.
> 
> Vauxhall Gardens: Pleasure garden, one of the popular venues for public entertainment during the Regency. The Gardens drew all manner of men and supported enormous crowds, with its paths being noted for romantic assignations. Tightrope walkers, hot air balloon ascents, concerts and fireworks provided amusement. My Carl Fountains is of course a reference to Carl Powers.
> 
> Weston: Was a famous tailor and draper of the period who also made clothes for the Prince Regent. Fit so beautifully with Moriarty's "Westwood" utterance in BBC Sherlock! :)
> 
> Wikipedia has been invaluable as also janeaustensworld.wordpress.com


	12. Chapter 12

Moriarty snapped at John's neck making him cringe and Sherlock roared, "I will tear you to pieces if you touch a hair on his head!" He struggled to get free but the man holding him merely twisted his wrists more painfully.

"Bonded Alphas do get so sentimental about their pets! I am going to have so much fun with you two", Moriarty laughing wildly.

Suddenly another masked man came running up to him, out of the surrounding gloom. He handed over a piece of paper saying, "Letter for you guv'nor! Was told it's urgent!" Moriarty snatched it up and began reading leaving the man to cover John with the gun.

Sherlock and John exchanged a look. Sherlock could see that John was struggling hard to keep his wits about him as his Heat worsened. He looked at his mate questioningly trying to ascertain how bad John was feeling. John gave him an imperceptible nod and Sherlock felt more ready to take on Moriarty. The situation was terrifying but he was damned if was going he let anything happen to John.

Moriarty was walking thoughtfully back towards them. He looked at Sherlock for a moment and then said mournfully, "Sorry! Wrong day to die."

"Did someone make you a better offer?" Sherlock asked him, keeping his tone casual.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock!" Moriarty promised and began strolling away, his eyes glued to the letter in his hand. He clicked his fingers and his accomplices melted away into the shadows.

 

Sherlock and John found themselves alone in the garden with only the chilly wind for company. Their predicament appeared to have ended as suddenly as it had begun. Sherlock rushed over to John who collapsed in his arms, the strain of the evening beginning to tell on him. "John! It's alright John. You're safe. I'm taking you home", Sherlock whispered to him as he balanced the man against his chest and began to scent him trying to remove all trace of Moriarty.

As they made their way home in a hack, he continued to scent and nuzzle John and rub his back in an attempt to soothe the Omega. John was sweating and his heated skin felt too sensitive to bear the burden of so many clothes. He tore off his cravat and shed his coat but Sherlock stilled his hand when he tried to undo his too tight trousers. "Just a while longer, John. We're almost home."

"I can't…I want you Sherlock…please!" John said fretfully. The stress of the night had caused his Heat to descend quite rapidly and he could feel the dampness spreading between his legs. He buried his face in Sherlock's shirt and clung to his Alpha trying to stop squirming. Sherlock was feeling mad with want and only his concern for John kept him from ravishing him then and there in the hack. He willed himself to ignore the delicious smell of John, his need, his wetness as he tried to calm the man who was almost crawling into his lap.

After what seemed an unbearable amount of time, they reached Baker Street. Sherlock flung a wad of notes at the curious coachman, supported John inside and when Mrs. Hudson came running to them just whispered one word, "Heat." Mrs. Hudson nodded and immediately sent off the other servants who were nearby. She ushered them to their bed chamber and told Sherlock she would take care of everything.

When the door closed behind her, Sherlock and John were on the bed. Sherlock finally allowed himself to lower his guard and began stripping John of his remaining clothes. "I'm sorry John. I'm so sorry you had to face that", he muttered as he ripped away his own clothes. "But you were so brave!"

He cupped John's face and peppered it with kisses before hungrily capturing his mouth. John moaned as Sherlock invaded his mouth and wrapped his lean body tightly around his as if trying to hide him within himself. "Mine", the Alpha in him whispered possessively and he began rutting against his mate rubbing his rock hard cock against him. He ran his hands down John's body as he left his mouth to suck at his neck. John clutched his Alpha's hard shoulders and lifted his neck to give him easy access. He wrapped his legs around Sherlock's, the smell of his Alpha making his senses swim.

"Please Sher…" John gasped as Sherlock bit down on the bondbite releasing a fresh wave of wetness in John. Sherlock moved down to encircle his nipple with his tongue and John arched his back and moaned in pleasure pressing the curly head to his chest. His hole was throbbing with want by now, clenching and unclenching as Sherlock's cock brushed against it. "Please…I want you Sherlock… fill me", John moaned, his hands in Sherlock's hair as the man sucked and teased his other nipple. His body felt like it was just an instrument of simmering sensations, responding only to his Alpha's touch.

Sherlock's fingers moved down to dance and flicker over his wetness and John screwed his eyes shut and bit his lips. As he inserted a finger into John, the Omega's body clenched around it and he whimpered, "More…more!" Sherlock quickly inserted another finger and then another, scissoring them and making sure John was ready for him. With his other hand, he fondled John's small but hard Omega dick and rubbed his large hands over his balls. By now, John was thrusting mindlessly upwards and clutching at the sheets fucking himself on Sherlock's fingers.

It was not enough however, and he opened his eyes trying to look at Sherlock and communicate that he was ready. Sherlock's pupils were blown and when his eyes met John's his cock seemed to impossibly harden even more. He put John's left leg over his shoulder and his right up and away before pushing into the silky warmth. John's hungry hole seemed to gobble up his considerable length and Sherlock growled, "You want me so much don't you? You're so wet for me! I'm going to breed you John! Fill you with my pups! Do you want that? Tell me you want that!"

"Yes…aah…yes Sherlock! Please…I want you, only you…breed me!" John moaned as they rocked together and moved his hands down Sherlock's sweaty, sinewy back to grip his ass. Sherlock gripped the headboard as his thrusts became more frantic till he could feel his knot begin to swell. John keened as it pressed inside him, stretching him wide. Sherlock brought his hand down between them to stroke John's cock and when he added a little twist, John came, screaming his name. Sherlock jolted to orgasm within him, wave after wave of his Alpha seed flooding his mate's sealed womb.

 

When the initial urgency had dissipated and his knot was finally beginning to deflate, Sherlock put an exhausted hand on John's shoulder. "I'm sorry about this evening", he said again.

"You don't have to keep apologizing", John said turning his head to look at where he held his mate's flushed, panting face against his neck. "You couldn't have known that he was going to abduct me."

"I should have known!"Sherlock said through clenched teeth. "I should have protected you." He was wracked with guilt to think that he had failed in his most basic duty as an Alpha. He pulled out of John and turned them both on their side so that he was spooning the man.

"Please stop tormenting yourself Sherlock. I am unharmed and so are you. You would have killed him if he had hurt me", John said confidently, reaching a hand back to rub Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock was touched. How could he explain to John how overwhelmed he was that he had offered to sacrifice himself to save Sherlock? How could he explain how proud he was of how John had conducted himself despite his imminent Heat and the threat of assault? How could he explain this strange warm feeling that seemed to originate somewhere in his chest and spread through his body? How could he explain that he was afraid that he was no longer as invulnerable as he had been? How could he explain that after years of hardening himself to the world, John had just walked into his life and slipped under his skin.

In the end all he managed to say was, "That... thing that you did…that you offered to do… That was, um ... good."

John just smiled sleepily and hummed in acknowledgement. The Moriarty encounter had been frightening, especially since he had been going into Heat. For a moment there… but it was no good dwelling on that, John thought, not wanting to squander the blissful feeling his mating had produced. Moriarty was now a known quantity and John was confident Sherlock would not rest till he tracked him down and took him apart. Besides John himself had managed to disarm him, if only for an instant. It had given John more confidence in his own abilities.

Sherlock bent down to kiss his cheek. Caring is not an advantage, Mycroft had once told him. And it was never truer than at this moment when he realized that John was his weakness. And his enemies knew it too and would not hesitate to exploit it. When he had seen John in Moriarty's grasp, he had experienced a paralyzing moment when his biggest asset, his intellect, seemed to desert him. But John had risen to the occasion yet again. At the cost of his own life, he had tried to save Sherlock's. He had demonstrated bravery in the face of certain death. He was Sherlock's own little soldier, Sherlock thought lovingly, as he looked at his sleeping Omega.

He thanked the higher powers that had mated him with someone like John. John might be his weakness now but he was also his strength.


	13. Chapter 13

When his Heat subsided, John felt reasonably certain that he was with child though he could not know for certain till some time had passed. Sherlock was a virile Alpha and he was a fertile Omega and the chances of impregnation during Heat were almost cent per cent. There were of course some exceptions like Lady Anthea and Lord Mycroft, so John prayed that all would be well.

The thought of carrying Sherlock and his child made him feel immensely happy and also a little bit scared. A child would be the perfect culmination of their relationship, of the love he felt for Sherlock, a tiny human being who would be a part of them both. The only thing that worried him was the actual experience of carrying a child and giving birth. He had seen and heard enough to know that it wouldn’t be easy, but he was fairly young and healthy and hopeful that he would manage it.

Sherlock was also aware that after their coupling during the Heat, John was mostly likely to be in the family way. He was not yet able to smell any change in John’s scent however, and by some unspoken agreement, they both did not speak on the topic till they could be certain. Sherlock was feeling anxious given his brother’s childless situation and did not want to raise anybody’s hopes unnecessarily. John seemed to feel the same. Sherlock had never given Mycroft’s situation much thought before but now he wondered about the pain Mycroft must have felt in remaining childless despite trying with his mate for so many years. He had never publicly expressed his sorrow about this and remained steadfastly loyal to Anthea and Sherlock was filled with reluctant admiration for him.

 

Mycroft, of course, had found out about the incident at the fountains and had made an appearance at Baker Street as soon as he could. He was polite with John, asking after his health and quickly running an eye over him to assess the damage for himself. As soon as he could corner Sherlock alone, he reprimanded him for his reckless behaviour. “I am serious Sherlock! You cannot behave in this impetuous manner now that you are married. You may not care for your own safety but John is your Omega and it is your duty to take care of him”, he said tapping his cane on the floor to make his point.

“I am well aware of my duties, Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted, goaded beyond endurance. “I have not hurt him intentionally, I would never do that! I thought he was safely home…I never dreamed that Moriarty had captured him. But, we got away in time.” He faltered knowing this sounded weak.

Mycroft sighed. “Sherlock, this is not how you take care of your bondmate. Omegas are delicate and they need to be treated carefully. John will one day soon bear your children Sherlock. He will produce the heir to Sherrinford. If anything should happen to him because you decided to drag him into your murky investigations…”

Sherlock listened with a rising anger and at the same time disgust at himself. He knew that what Mycroft was saying was partly true. He was already feeling guilty about not being able to protect John adequately without Mycroft lecturing him about it.

After his visit, Sherlock looked over at John as they sat drinking their tea. He planned to track down Moriarty and eliminate the threat that he had posed. That was the only way in which he could be assured of John’s safety. Their escape from Moriarty’s clutches the other night had been extremely providential. And intriguing.

“Sherlock, what happened with Moriarty?” John asked, seeming to read his mind.

“Somebody changed his mind”, Sherlock answered thoughtfully.

“Hmm. Well we’ll just have to be more careful next time”, John said practically, as he spread some jam on a scone.

“There will be no next time John”, Sherlock said sternly, getting up and clasping his hands behind his back, “I will not risk your life further. You are not to accompany me to any investigations from now on.” He was going to say more but John interrupted him.

“What?! But I wasn’t abducted on an investigation. I was at a soiree! And I was being used as bait to get to you, as you well know! So unless you plan to keep me confined at home, my going to your investigations is the same as my going to other social gatherings. And…” he rushed on not letting Sherlock get a word in, “I’ll probably be safer with you than on my own. You have to agree that we work better together.”

Sherlock quirked a bemused lip in reply. “Fine, John. Alright. I won’t confine you indoors though I am tempted to do so. But I will ask you to be very careful when you are going anywhere without me.” He privately decided that he wouldn’t tell John about the more dangerous cases. John would insist on accompanying him and that would never do, especially if he were with child.

 

A week later, Sherlock and John were invited to a masked ball thrown by Lord Angelo. He was a loud man who loved throwing big parties to which he always invited Sherlock and John. He thought of Sherlock as a good friend ever since the detective had helped clear his name of a murder charge and saved him from having to fight a duel. John was keen on attending the gala as this would be his first masked ball. He had also taken on the role of a suitable escort and chaperone for Molly who he had insisted should attend the party. He had also urged Lestrade to meet them there and the man had readily agreed.

“John…” Sherlock asked suspiciously after observing his manoeuverings, “Are you trying your hand at matchmaking?”

“I don’t know what you mean”, John said trying to look innocent and wide eyed.

“Well, I’ll have to go with you”, Sherlock said with an air of finality. “Masked balls often turn out to be quite unruly. People seem to think that hiding their identities behind masks give them all sorts of license.” John hadn’t ventured out too much since the Moriarty episode, and when he did go out, Sherlock either accompanied him or followed him. He was still feeling very protective about John and even more so given that John might be expecting their child.

“That would be wonderful. Angelo will be pleased”, John smiled and then purred mischievously, “And I would love to see you in a domino.”

And so it transpired that Sherlock wearing a beautiful purple silk domino and dressed as a Spanish cavalier, joined John and Molly at the ball. John had chosen an embroidered cream coloured mask trimmed with light blue feathers, which highlighted his blond hair and deep blue eyes. Molly wore a deep brown one made of lace that John had assured her she looked gorgeous in. She had been guilt ridden and depressed about the Moriarty debacle and initially not wanted to attend, but once they reached Lord Angelo’s place she couldn’t help being caught up in the excitement. The ball looked to be a success – the musicians played continuously, the Omegas danced and laughed, the Alphas flirted outrageously, the wine overflowed and Angelo was a generous and jovial host.

John managed to get Lestrade to dance with Molly and stood back watching proudly. He scanned the crowd for Sherlock who had melted away soon after they had entered. It was difficult to distinguish people since everyone was masked. John crossed the hall and passed the alcoves which had been set up with tables for playing cards. From what John could see there was less card playing and more love making going on in the tiny spaces.

Finally John was surprised to spot in a cozy nook, a curly mop of hair above a purple mask. His husband appeared to be listening intently to his companion, a woman wearing a rather scandalous dress in black and red. Half her face was covered with a black silk mask and her lips were painted a deep red. She appeared to be carrying a riding crop in one hand and John wondered who she was masquerading as.

As he reached them, he could smell that the woman was an Omega – her scent was dark and musky. She looked at John and said to Sherlock, “And this must be your Omega, John.” Her lips curled in a saucy smile and John looked towards Sherlock in some confusion, feeling like he had missed something. His husband held the woman’s gaze and merely said, “Yes. This is Miss Irene Adler, John.”

“Oh, hello”, John said, “Pleased to meet you.”

“You shouldn’t be” the woman told him with another provocative smile. Before he could say anymore, she changed the subject. “So Mr. Holmes, tell me about the man with the bashed in head.”

“How do you know about that?” John asked in surprise and looked at Sherlock. Sherlock seemed equally taken aback. The case had been brought to Sherlock’s attention just that morning – Colonel Barclay, had been found beside a creek dead due to a blow on the back of the head. Barclay had been a strong man, who loved the great outdoors – he was well travelled and regularly boxed at Jackson’s saloon. It was difficult to believe that he had been overpowered without a fight or even understand why he had been killed.

“Well I know a lot of interesting people, word gets around. And I like detective stories…and detectives”, she said looking straight at Sherlock. John stared first at her and then at Sherlock who appeared to be uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

Sherlock quickly pulled himself together and said evasively, “Well, I wouldn’t want to bore you with the tedious details of the case. But, let me tell you this, Colonel James Barclay wasn’t murdered.”

“Not murdered?” Irene asked sounding puzzled. John felt the same way – he hadn’t realized Sherlock had solved the case.

“And on that note, we will take your leave, madam”, Sherlock said smiling stiffly and taking John’s arm he steered him away from the alcove. John looked back at her over his shoulder and found her looking after them with an enigmatic smile on her lips.

Before he could ask Sherlock anything more about Irene Adler, they were accosted by a rather drunk Lord Angelo and taken away to dance. As the night wore on, the revelry began to get more out of hand and Sherlock decided it was time to go home. They first dropped off a happy looking Molly, who had spent most of the evening with Lestrade. Once they were alone in the carriage, John rested his head on Sherlock’s chest and closed his eyes as Sherlock put his arm around him. It was very late and he was very sleepy. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic sound of the horses hooves clattering over the cobblestones. Then Sherlock’s baritone rumbled through his chest, “John. Your scent has changed.”

  
John moved away and looked up at his husband’s face, suddenly feeling wide awake. Sherlock’s expression was one of soft wonder as he locked eyes with John. He pulled him closer and nosed his neck where his scent was the strongest, before smiling broadly, “Yes! Congratulations John! It looks like we are expecting a child!” And with that he kissed the shining face raised up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would any of my talented readers like to create artwork for this story? Regency Sherlock and John should be interesting subjects! :)
> 
> And special thanks to abutterflymind who has made lovely images for Chapters 3 and 9 - you can find the links in the end notes of those Chapters.


	14. Chapter 14

Once the good news was shared with their families, John began to feel that he should have kept it as his own little happy secret for a few days longer.

His parents had shown up at Baker Street as soon as they could, his father bearing the most extravagant gifts to demonstrate his joy. There was a huge crib draped with the finest lace, a gem encrusted rattle and a diamond studded ring for John. He even brought a gilded magnifying glass for Sherlock. When John and Sherlock tried to protest about the necessity of such gifts, they were treated to such a calm disregard that they soon gave up in despair. However when Howard threatened to buy him a new carriage model which was supposed to be extra comfortable, John could see black clouds gathering on his husband’s brow. He quickly acted as peacemaker and assured his father that he would let him know if there was anything he needed and gave his husband a pleading look.

Sherlock was, in any case, in no mood to be displeased with John. He had known that he would one day be siring a child but the fact that he was actually soon to be a father and that the child would be his and John’s had filled him with a thousand new emotions. He looked at John adoringly and became even more protective about him. He strengthened his resolve not to expose him to any danger and vowed to clean up his more unpredictable experiments. Sometimes he worried about whether he would be a good father. He knew quite well that he was a difficult man. He was selfish and moody and not good at expressing his feelings. It was a miracle, he thought, that he had John as a mate who complemented him so well.

Mycroft and Anthea had visited several times and were clearly very happy for them both. Mycroft had formally offered his congratulations to his brother and then smoked a pipe with him, a sign of great emotion coming from him. John had been slightly wary of Anthea’s reaction but he found the woman as warm as ever. She was, in fact, delighted and happy to spend hours discussing John’s pregnancy with him. As always she had several valuable nuggets of information to share.

 

There was no immediate need for John to abstain from his daily activities so he continued as usual under his husband and Mrs. Hudson’s watchful eyes. Sherlock had taken him to a reputed physician on Harley Street, and listened carefully to the doctor’s instructions before cross-questioning him. He even had an animated discussion with the man about all the biological and anatomical implications of pregnancy, leaving John red faced and the doctor highly amused to see such an involved Alpha. Pregnancy and childbirth were usually an Omega’s domain and Alphas remained protective but distant, expecting only to receive a healthy child at the end of nine months.

Sherlock did not seem to be taking up too many cases also and when he was not doing some experiments, he spent more of his time as a Regency buck ought to – at his clubs or attending parties. This surprised John a little till he realized that this was probably his Alpha’s way of keeping his mate and child out of harm’s way. Now there were only a few simple cases – stealing maids and cheating husbands – which infuriated Sherlock with their simplicity but which he took up nonetheless to keep himself occupied. John was also content to focus more on his pregnancy than on cases, knowing that now he carried a life within him. But still sometimes he did miss the blood pumping through his veins, the thrill of the chase, just him and Sherlock against the rest of the world.

John also had to gradually cut down on his social engagements – he went out on walks and drives in the park and paid morning visits but avoided crowded affairs like balls or parties. He had begun to feel queasy on occasion and hated to make a fuss, so felt it was best to avoid such situations which would cause him embarrassment. Sherlock attended these on his behalf since it would be rude to refuse all invitations. He would come back and regale John with entertaining stories about whom he had seen and what he deduced about them so John never felt that he had missed much.

John spent more time with other Omegas trying to anticipate the changes his body would be going through. Stamford, his old friend, was a male Omega and had already borne two children so was able to share quite a bit with John. The infant mortality rate was still quite high and John’s own mother had lost three children in infancy, so he wanted to be as educated as possible. With his interest in the medical sciences, it wasn’t hard for him to understand some of the journals that Sherlock procured for him.

 

But still, John was not prepared for how quickly his morning sickness worsened. After the first month, it seemed that he spent most of his time throwing up. Just the smell of food was some days enough to set him off. Regurgitating whatever he ate left him feeling exhausted and irritable and he preferred to lie down quietly in his bed than go out anywhere. Sherlock was worried but the doctor had reassured them that this was normal and should pass within a few weeks. The doctor fortunately also did not seem to believe in practices like blood-letting or going on the reducing diet, for which John was thankful. He could not understand how losing blood or eating less was going to make him healthier, even though it was quite a common practice.

John saw Sherlock just a couple of times a day as he was unable to go out much and could hardly insist that his Alpha sit at home and keep him company. Sherlock knew that he preferred to be left alone in the mornings when the nausea was worst. So he spent time with him in the early evening before he left for his engagements and then sometimes dropped in after he came back late at night. If John was awake, they cuddled for a bit till he fell asleep listening to Sherlock’s sonorous voice. On the nights when he was restless, Sherlock played his favourite pieces on the violin to soothe him. Mrs Hudson comforted him with damp cloths to the forehead and light soups. Lady Anthea used to visit in the evenings whenever she could.

After a couple of months, John began to notice a slight bump on his once flat stomach and he was suddenly breathless to think that his life was soon going to change irrevocably. Sherlock noticed soon enough and made him take off all his clothes so he could inspect him for other changes. That predictably led to round of love making that was more tender and less urgent than before. Sherlock rubbed his hand possessively over the little baby bump as John sighed contentedly. They did not spend much time being intimate these days, restrained by John’s pregnancy and his poor health. Stamford had said that one could carry on relations in the early months but Sherlock had seemed hesitant and John had felt unwell. He planned to make it up to his husband as soon as he regained his strength.

 

Gradually, John felt the nausea beginning to recede. He was able to eat a little more and felt less tired. When Harry dropped in to see him one morning, he felt well enough to go out on a drive through the Park. It was a sunny day and John was glad to be out breathing the fresh air and looking at the interesting people on the streets. As they rounded a corner, he suddenly espied a familiar carriage on the far side.

“Oh! Slow down. That’s Sherlock!” John told his sister. As Harry loosened the reins, John saw that Sherlock was not alone. A woman was seated next to him and he was looking down at her as he handled the reins. The woman was extremely attractive, John could see even from the distance. She was raven haired and dark eyed with sharp features. Something about the way she smiled, her red lips curling up, gave him a sense of déjà vu.

“Who is that Harry? Do you know her?” he asked his sister.

His sister had been looking at Sherlock too and now she seemed to blush for some reason. “Oh, that’s nobody you want to know. You’ve been out for too long…we should be heading back to Baker Street now”, she said and turned their horses in the opposite direction.

John saw that Sherlock’s curricle had moved quite far off and lay back feeling bewildered by the sight he had just seen, Harry’s reaction and the odd feeling that he had seen the woman before.

 

It came to him suddenly as he lay tossing about in his bed that afternoon. If he was not mistaken, the woman was Irene Adler who he had met at Lord Angelo’s masked ball. John’s unease grew. He dressed with care that evening and waited for Sherlock to come to him so that he could ask him about the woman. But he waited in vain as evening darkened into night and there was still no sign of his husband. This was not exactly unusual and John realized that Sherlock had been staying out quite a bit in the last few weeks. When John finally gave up and went to bed late that night, Sherlock had still not returned.

After a disturbed night’s sleep, he woke early and hurried to join Sherlock at breakfast. His husband was seated at the table reading the paper and looked surprised to see him. “Ah, John! You are joining me for breakfast today? I do hope you are feeling better then?”

“Yes, I’m feeling much better, thank you”, John said as he sat down at the table. “In fact, I felt well enough to go out for a ride with Harry yesterday.”

“Oh? That’s excellent. Fresh air is good for you. Where did you go?” Sherlock asked looking pleased.

“We drove around the Park for a bit”, John said and wondered if it was his imagination or if Sherlock’s face was really adopting a guarded expression. “And I saw you too. Driving with that woman… Irene Adler was it?” John asked in a deceptively casual tone.

“Oh”, Sherlock said and picked up his paper again, seemingly having lost all interest in the conversation.

“Did you go to White’s yesterday? I was waiting for you in the evening…” John said trying a different tack.

Sherlock coughed and looked at him fleetingly, “Erm, yes, I was a bit tied up yesterday. My apologies for making you wait. I should have left a note.”

“Who is that Woman? Why was she riding with you, Sherlock?” John asked, too impatient to try more indirect approaches.

Sherlock was silent for some time then seemed to give up the struggle. He lifted his eyes from his paper and looked away into the distance as he answered dreamily, “Irene Adler? She’s a very intelligent woman. Quite remarkable.”

As John stared, he seemed to snap out of his reverie, looked down at his paper again and continued in a flat voice, “She is a very wealthy widow. She was married to the erstwhile Prince of Bohemia. After his sudden death, she’s moved back to England from the Continent. When I met her at the Park, her horse had lost a shoe and she was stranded. So, I offered to drive her back home.” He gave John a short look as if to say ‘happy now?’

John was not feeling very happy. While his explanation was plausible, there was something off about Sherlock’s behaviour. And he had never heard his husband admire anyone’s intelligence so openly before. He didn’t know what to make of it or what more he could ask Sherlock. But he was most definitely not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely manips for Regency Irene here:  
> http://labellecreation.livejournal.com/38326.html


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you so much for letting me know, through the kudos and comments, that you are enjoying this story! It really means a lot to a writer to know that there are people out there who like the strange ideas that float out of her brain and onto the computer screen! ;)
> 
> I am sorry I haven't replied to all your comments as that would have led to a spoiler-y discussion. All I can say, is please bear with me and if you've liked the story so far, I'm hoping you'll continue to like it!
> 
> I am posting this chapter fairly soon because I had it written and I may not be able to post again for some days.

As the morning  sickness stopped plaguing him, John made more of an effort to get back into an active lifestyle. He wanted to spend more time with Sherlock but it was becoming  difficult to keep track of him. He was out of the house by the time John was able  to get out of bed and dress and came back quite late on most nights.  John tried to wait up for him  but  Sherlock insisted that he sleep and take enough rest. When they  did  spend some time together, Sherlock was reluctant to talk about where he had been and what he had been doing. And John felt silly asking him for an account of his time when it clearly bored Sherlock. So John also went out to meet his friends in the evenings or invited them over for tea and made plans for some small entertainments where Sherlock could  participate.

Howard Watson had procured a private box at the theatre for John so that he could enjoy himself when the fancy struck him.This had been a matter of great irritation for Sherlock  as h e could not have afforded the upkeep of a box himself or at best bought place in an inferior one. However he tried to be reasonable and think that  John deserved all the benefits of a privileged life. And so, when John proposed an evening at the theatre, Sherlock did not refuse. Lady Anthea and Lord Mycroft Holmes were to accompany them too.

As John dressed for the evening, he looked down self consciously at himself noting how he was gradually changing. His once well muscled body had turned soft and his belly had also grown a bit bigger. Most of his clothes had been subtly altered  but he would  need  more maternity clothes tailored he realized. Sherlock entered his room then and John  marveled at how handsome his husband  looked. His hair was ordered in soft curls and his blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. His coat appeared to be melded to his tall, lithe frame and his shoulders did not need padding to look broad. His strong thighs and calves were only accentuated by the tight pantaloons and stockings he wore. Like always, he was dressed simply but looked unmistakably stylish.

As he stood behind John, telling him how much he abhorred the theatre, the Omega looked at their reflection in the mirror and was struck by  what an ill-matched pair they made. He looked ordinary and short and…and… now he was also looking pudgy, he thought, with his coat stretched tightly across his increasing belly. He felt suddenly disgusted and close to tears.

“I don’t want to go to the theatre either!” he exclaimed suddenly sitting down on the bed and interrupting Sherlock’s tirade.

Sherlock looked at him in concern. “What is it John? Are you feeling unwell?”

John looked down at his hands  feeling foolish, “No… no… I’m fine.”

“Then what is the matter John? Is it because of me? Don’t mind what I say…you know how I am”, Sherlock said flustered. He sat down next to John on the bed and took his hand in his, “I was just… look I know you like the theatre and it will do you good to meet Lady  Anthea and your other friends. We’ll go together and enjoy ourselves alright?”

“Alright”, John nodded and felt much better when Sherlock nuzzled and kissed the  bondbite and splayed his hands possessively over John’s belly.

 

John was feeling much more like himself when they were seated in their box at the theatre. He didn’t know why he had behaved so stupidly earlier. He chatted happily with  Anthea  while Mycroft and Sherlock conversed in quiet whispers behind them. When the curtains went up, John got caught up in the performances and didn’t immediately  realize that Sherlock had slipped out.  He knew this was quite normal for Sherlock and he was probably bored and had gone off deducing somewhere. At the interval, there were several visitors to their box with the more perceptive among them congratulating John on his condition. John  chatted politely and sipped  the cool lemonade which Mycroft procured for them, all the while keeping an eye out for Sherlock.

“Looking for Sherlock, aren’t you, John?” asked Lady Donovan. She was a crusty old woman who was well known for her sharp tongue and gossipy nature. “I just saw him a while back with that Adler woman”, she said and watched with satisfaction as the colour drained from John’s face. “He’s been spending a lot of time in her company from what I  hear… She’s quite the merry widow! I hear there was quite a dreadful Scandal in Bohemia when her husband died”, she whispered conspiratorially. “But then again Sherlock probably likes that kind of thing doesn’t he? He enjoys it.”

“I don’t know what you can mean, Lady Donovan. I’m sure you don’t intend  to speak disparagingly about my Alpha in front of me, as that would be a most ill-advised thing to do”, John said dangerously , recovering himself. He  turned  away  from a spluttering Sally Donovan to speak to Stamford, who had also joined them. Lady Anthea cast a worried look at him but didn’t say anything as they continued chatting with the other visitors.

It was only when everyone returned to their seats and the curtains rose for the next act, that John let himself shed his role. Lady Donovan’s comments had brought to the fore all the ambiguous fears that he had  not  articulated to himself. Was it possible that Sherlock had an interest in Irene Adler? A romantic interest? Even a few days back, John would have laughed off these ideas. Sherlock was not that kind of man, he would have said. His husband  had been shy and inexperienced when they had been married. Granted that since then, he had quickly become a skilled lover but still…  He could barely tolerate most people and had little patience with them. He had of course, mentioned that Irene Adler was remarkably intelligent… Had she then really caught his fancy? John knew how easily Sherlock could get bored and how much he loved a challenge. Was that what had happened here – Sherlock had grown tired of John? So soon. Was he…was he having an affair with that Woman? He could scarcely believe it.

Suddenly he didn’t feel in the mood for  drama at all. He leaned forward to make his excuses to Lady  Anthea and with some difficulty he convinced her to stay back while he took the carriage back home. Lord Holmes escorted him to the carriage since there was still no sign of Sherlock. John had to fob him off with some excuses as well though he rather feared Mycroft was not so easy to fool.

 

Back in Baker Street, John retired to his bedchamber refusing the dinner Mrs. Hudson was insisting on. He lay in bed and waited for Sherlock as he seemed to be doing so often these days. John knew their marriage had started as just a convenient arrangement, but it had since  then  blossomed into something much more.  Definitely for him.  And he had felt reasonably certain that it was true for Sherlock also…  He was determined to clarify what exactly was going on with him and Irene. He didn’t care if that was inappropriate  or indelicate. He was beginning to feel quite angry. How dare Sherlock run off like this while John kept waiting for him! And that stupid Lady Donovan’s insinuations were probably not true – even if Sherlock had been meeting Irene Adler, it was probably related to one of his cases. He didn’t know all the details of all the cases Sherlock took up – Sherlock could be quite taciturn when he felt like it. Yes! That had to be it. Feeling better, John thought about eating a little bit for the sake of his child.

 

John had fallen asleep sitting by the fire when Sherlock was brought in. He awoke suddenly to find his husband being supported by  a footman, his eyes drooping closed, his  hair wild and his clothes askew. John stared  in shock for a moment before realizing that Sherlock was  thoroughly inebriated. He kept muttering something and flailed about as the footman helped him to his room under Mrs.  Hudson’s guidance.  John had never seen Sherlock like this in their few months together. Mrs. Hudson tried to pacify him and send him to his room but he was not going to leave his Alpha alone like this. He told  Mrs. Hudson not to worry and sent her away telling her not to wake up Sherlock’s valet. John did not want the whole household seeing his husband like this.

He sat on the bed and pulled off the unconscious man’s shoes and went to place them by the fire.  “John!” Sherlock shouted behind him,  suddenly  awake. “John!”

John turned to see a bleary eyed Sherlock sitting up in bed and looking around wildly. He tried to get out of the bed awkwardly and only succeeded in toppling right off it. John rushed to him as he began dragging himself across the floor, his limbs clearly refusing to cooperate.

“What are you …? No, Sherlock, no…”, John said, as he heaved a breath and dragged Sherlock as best as he could back to bed. Sherlock was as heavy as lead in his arms and John was panting by the time he had laid him back on the pillows. He pulled the covers over him and smoothed back the curls from his face worriedly.

John couldn’t understand what was happening – where had Sherlock gone, why was he so drunk. He pulled the loose cravat from Sherlock’s neck and… froze. There on the left side of Sherlock’s neck was the faint outline of someone’s lips. Lips that had been painted red and had stained Sherlock’s pale skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute manip of pregnant John by labellecreation here:  
> http://labellecreation.livejournal.com/38606.html


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The project I was working on, concluded much faster than expected (yay!), so here's a brand new chapter!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! :)

How foolish he had been, John thought, as the tears trickled down his cheeks. How utterly complacent. He had thought that Sherlock was different, a unique man who he been fortunate to be mated to. But Sherlock was a privileged aristocrat, a dominant Alpha and he was doing what most people of his class were wont to do. He was having an affair with an Omega who caught his fancy. Irene Adler was beautiful and brilliant – she complemented Sherlock in the two ways that John never could. John had never even considered the fact that his husband might prefer female Omegas. He had married John out of necessity but possibly his tastes ran to women?

John supposed he really shouldn’t feel betrayed. They had married not out of love but out of need. Love had never been mentioned as a factor in their marriage at all. It was only his own naïveté that had led him to fall headlong in love with his dashing husband. And he had assumed…he had assumed that Sherlock felt the same. How could he have ever thought that he would be able to hold the mercurial genius’ interest for long! What could John possibly offer him? Besides an heir. That was probably the only reason Sherlock tolerated him, why he was kind to him even now. He did his duty by his Omega but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. It had been ages since they had even made love, John realized with a pang.

His mind in a whirl, John cried himself to sleep, alone in his bedchamber. He awoke in the early hours of the morning and lay in bed thinking of how he was going to face the day. A part of him wanted to just go and confront Sherlock, shake him by his coat collar and demand an apology. But he reminded himself that Sherlock had married him because his family needed the money, they needed an heir from him. Sherlock had made no promises of undying love or fidelity to him. He himself had promised Sherlock happiness and comfort. Just because he had fallen in love with Sherlock did not mean that Sherlock should have to do the same. He treated John with affection and kindness and that was as good as a marriage of convenience could get. He was clearly looking forward to the birth of his heir and it was John’s duty to present him with a healthy child. 

John decided to do exactly what was expected of him –focus on delivering a healthy baby. He had just let himself in for a lot of pain by veering from the script and expecting more from his marriage. 

 

Sherlock joined him at the breakfast table and looked curiously at him perhaps trying to deduce what had happened the previous night. John held his tongue and it took all of his strength to act as normal as he could – he was determined not to embarrass himself or Sherlock. Sherlock however quite easily sensed that something was not quite right and asked him several times if he felt well. He clearly didn’t intend to leave the house that day – whether it was because he still felt hungover from the previous night, because he sensed John’s pain or because he just needed to think, John didn’t know. 

John tried to avoid him as much as possible, trying to get his feelings under control but Sherlock kept following him around. The Alpha didn’t speak much and was clearly on one of his Mind Palace trips but he also felt a need to comfort John. If John sat to write in his journal, Sherlock picked up his violin and played his favourite pieces. If John went to sit on the sofa and pretended to read a book, Sherlock put his head in his lap and curled up there lost in his thoughts. If John went to lie down in his bedchamber, he came to bed too and lay next to him absentmindedly stroking his mate’s belly. John’s heart felt like it would break into a million pieces but he reminded himself of his decision. Any Alpha would feel protective about their pups, it didn’t mean Sherlock wanted John.

Finally, it got too much and a small sob escaped him. Sherlock immediately snapped out of his musings.

“John? Are you crying? What’s the matter John?” he asked anxiously. “You have been upset all day. Is it the baby? Are you unwell? Please tell me so that I can help you!”

John only sobbed harder covering his face with his hands.

“Please John. Are you upset because I left during the play last night? I did come back towards the end to take you home but you had already left. So I just…went to the club…had some work. Did I say or do something stupid last night? I… I realize I was not quite in my senses when I returned home… I don’t remember much”, Sherlock said looking perplexed. He hugged John closer to himself and began scenting him hoping it would calm him down. But to Sherlock’s surprise, John just pushed him away roughly.

“I’m f..f…fine”, he blubbered almost angrily. “Just leave me alone.”

Sherlock backed away looking hurt. “Alright John, as you wish. But I’m right here, so please let me know if you need anything.” He left John and feeling quite worried, went to Mrs. Hudson for help. She reprimanded him for returning home so drunk, then assured him that John having an emotional outburst was probably a side effect of his pregnancy. “Omegas tend to have fluctuations in their moods when they are with child. So don’t worry, just be kind to him and it will pass.”

 

Over the next few days, Sherlock continued to stay away from Baker Street for long periods of time. John found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon up the fake enthusiasm to socialize so he refused visitors and stayed in. One day however, the footman announced that Miss Irene Adler was waiting to meet him. John almost refused to meet her but then his curiosity got the better of him. Irene looked gorgeous in a white taffeta dress with short puffed sleeves. 

“Good morning John”, she said gaily as he looked bitterly at her.

“Good morning Ms. Adler”, he said formally. “What brings you here?” He didn’t care if he sounded rude. 

“Oh… I was hoping you might be able to help me. Sherlock has something which is very close to me and he just refuses to return it”, she said looking pointedly at him, “I wondered if you could help me get it back.”

John couldn’t believe the gall of the woman. He had to physically restrain himself from slapping her. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?! You’ve been seeing quite a bit of him I understand.”

Irene’s eyes opened a bit wide as though she had just realized something. She was quiet for a moment and then a slow smile curled around her lips. “I hope you’re not jealous?” she asked provocatively.

“Why would I be jealous! You are being ridiculous Miss Adler! I think its best that you leave now!” John said outraged.

“Yes, I think my work here is done! Do give Sherlock my love”, Irene smiled sweetly and left the room.

John couldn’t believe that Irene had been brass-faced enough to visit him and expect him to participate in whatever little games she was playing with Sherlock. He stood by the window watching as she stepped out of Baker Street and got into her carriage. John turned away holding a protective hand over his belly.

 

That night Sherlock joined him for dinner. They sat in silence, both of them pushing the food around on their plates. John steeled himself and said, “Your friend, Miss Adler visited me today.” He struggled and failed to keep the anger out of his voice. “But I’m sure you already knew that.” 

Sherlock looked at him with his deducing face, that intense gaze seeking out all his secrets. “What did she say?”

“She said you have something which is dear to her and that she wants it back”, John said trying to do some deducing of his own. His husband’s face remained inscrutable. “What is it?” John asked.

“It’s nothing you need to worry yourself with John. She’s just amusing herself. She does love to play games”, Sherlock said dismissively. Before John could recover from that, he continued, “And John, I think you should move to Sherrinford Castle for the remainder of your confinement. It will be more restful for you. Your parents are also now in their country home and they will be closer to you. Lady Anthea will also be moving there for some weeks to give you company. I have made all the arrangements. I will escort you to Sherrinford tomorrow and return to London after settling you in.”

John stared at him stunned. “You want to send me away?” he managed to choke out.

Sherlock refused to meet his eyes, “I think that is best for you and for the baby. Yes.”

So Sherlock couldn’t even bear to have him at Baker Street. He wanted to be rid of him so that he could carry on with Irene freely. Maybe she didn’t want John in London and had persuaded Sherlock to send him away. 

John somehow got through dinner and retired to bed as soon as he could. Sherlock didn’t come to his room anymore. John knew he had put on quite a bit of weight in the last few months. His chest was soft and swollen, preparing to feed his baby. His arse looked huge to his critical eyes. And his belly even more so. His face looked positively chubby and he could no longer move as fast as he once used to. It was no wonder Sherlock did not want to be near him now, John thought tearfully. He wondered if Sherlock made love to Irene Adler like he had made love to him – his intense gaze stripping him naked, his pale muscular body rubbing against his so passionately, his talented mouth sucking patterns on his neck… John let out a little pained moan and tried desperately to stop his mind.

~O~

The next day they left for Sherrinford. An uneasy silence weighed on them during the journey so unlike their earlier comfortable ones. Sherlock attempted some conversation but John’s replies were curt. When he attempted to put his arm around him also, John stiffened and so he withdrew in confusion and some anger. 

At Sherrinford Castle, a visitor was already waiting for them. It was Sir Henry Knight from the neighbouring Baskerville county. He had a case for Sherlock. He claimed that his father had been killed by a ‘gigantic hound’ when he was a boy and now the hound was back to haunt him. He had seen its paw prints on the moor and heard its unearthly howls every night. His educated mind feared that someone was trying to drive him mad or kill him and wanted Sherlock to get to the bottom of this. The man was a nervous wreck - his hands shook as he lit his pipe and he kept looking furtively around as if he expected the ‘hound’ to jump out at him. 

Sherlock’s eyes glittered as he heard about the ghostly hound and despite his own worries, John couldn’t help feeling a frisson of interest himself. Sherlock must have noticed something because he unexpectedly announced that he would help Henry only if his husband accompanied him. “As you may notice, he is with child and I cannot bear to leave him alone”, he said. John looked at him in surprise – it had been a very long time since Sherlock had taken him along for a case. Sherlock made an exaggerated regretful-cute-puppy expression at John which the Omega knew to be a blatant act just to tease him. He was tempted to refuse but in the end, the distraught pleading of Sir Henry left him no choice.

They rested at Sherrinford for the night, John still trying to rebuff Sherlock and left for Baskerville the next morning. They were staying incognito at an inn there so as not to arouse any suspicions and the innkeeper and his wife were garrulous folk who fussed when they saw a pregnant Omega. “Prepared a comfortable double room for you lads. Let us know if you need anything else, eh?” the man said.

Sherlock began questioning the locals and convinced Henry Knight to take him that night to Dewer’s Hollow where his father had been killed. John wanted to go too but Sherlock resolutely refused to take him along. “It could be dangerous, John and we can’t take a risk in your condition”, he said before leaving. 

To John that was like a clarion call. He was feeling reckless and frustrated and after waiting for a while, he put on his greatcoat and made his way stealthily behind Sherlock and Sir Henry. Sherlock had been busy questioning Sir Henry as they walked the desolate moor and peering at the ground looking for clues so it took him some time to realize what was going on. He stopped, turned back to look at where John was trying to hide behind a tree and sighed. “Oh John! I might have known! ‘Dangerous’ was the wrong word to use with you!”

They began moving forward again but only after Sherlock had firmly gripped John’s small hand in his large one. John had to admit it was more comforting. They walked hand in hand exploring the sinister Dewer’s Hollow with Sir Henry holding up a torch to light their way, its yellow flames casting strange shadows around them. All of John’s senses were on alert and for a while he could almost forget the events of the past few weeks. “You alright?” Sherlock checked with him and he grunted out a reply. He knew what he was doing was dangerous but that had never stopped him, he thought fingering the pistol tucked into his waistband. He was feeling more alive than he had in months.

Suddenly there was an unearthly growl from somewhere close and Sherlock immediately moved to stand in front of him, covering his body and turning in the direction from where the sound had come. Sir Henry raised his torch in trembling hands and let out a strangled cry, even as John felt his husband draw in a sharp breath at the sight before them.


	17. Chapter 17

John could barely walk straight because of the way Sherlock held him pressed close to his chest, as they made their way back from the moor. From time to time, his Alpha let out a little growl as though to ward off any dangers that lay in their path. John felt confused and lay a hand on his belly protectively. Sir Henry Knight walked beside them trembling and blabbering about the hound, “We saw it John! And…and Mr. Holmes saw it too! It was the hound!”

John had been unable to see the apparition, protected as he had been behind Sherlock. But he had heard it’s bloodcurdling howl and the rustling of leaves as it presumably leaped away into the shadows. And he had felt the tremor that had run through Sherlock, so he was surprised when his husband roughly told Henry, “I saw nothing!” John attempted to placate the bewildered and frightened man as they reached his home and gave him some laudanum to help him sleep.

When they finally got back to the inn and settled down in the parlour, Sherlock with a stiff whisky in his hand, John attempted to talk to his mate. He could tell that Sherlock was very worked up. His face was tight and he was blinking rapidly trying to calm himself. John could smell the anxiety and horror rolling off him. Clearly he had seen something on the moor. Something that had managed to badly unnerve him. “So… there was something on the moor”, John said slowly. Sherlock didn't reply so he continued, “Some sort of animal…?”

“Henry’s right! I saw it too, John! I saw the hound!” Sherlock bit out through gritted teeth.

“What… What exactly did you see Sherlock? You can’t mean to say that you saw a ghostly hound of hell!” John exclaimed.

“But I did see it John! It was larger than any dog I have ever seen and its whole body appeared to glow with an unearthly light. Its eyes were red as blood and its huge fangs were bared in a snarl”, Sherlock said as he repressed a shudder.

John had never seen him so distraught and he said in a soothing voice, “Look Sherlock, we have to be rational about this… You of all people…”

“Yes, me John!” Sherlock said furiously. “I always thought that I could trust the evidence of my senses… but now you see…” he held up his whisky glass and glared at his shaking hand, “body’s betraying me!”

“Sherlock”, John said in a low voice, “you have to calm down. It was dark and scary on the moor and it is possible that you…”

“There is nothing wrong with me!” Sherlock said loudly.

“Alright…alright, love”, John said in a placatory tone, not even realizing that the endearment had slipped out of his traitorous mouth again. He leaned forward and placed his hand on Sherlock’s. “Just come up to bed okay… in the morning…”

“I know what I saw! And I don’t think you need to put me to bed like a small child”, Sherlock spat out angrily.

“Yes…why would you listen to me… I’m just your Omega after all”, John said wearily.

“And I’m your Alpha and I’ll do as I please!” Sherlock said savagely, his fear taking the shape of misplaced anger.

“I know”, John said softly and left the room trying to control the hurt that was seeping back into him. All his anger and pain at Sherlock’s affair with Irene came rushing back as he lay in bed and rubbed a hand over his belly. Sherlock never came up that night.

~O~

The next morning, John woke up early, ate his breakfast and went to the nearby chapel to calm his mind. It was a cloudy day and his wretchedness only increased as he strolled in the attached graveyard reading the headstones. He was wondering morbidly if he would survive the childbirth, when Sherlock found him.

“Erm, good morning John”, Sherlock said looking apologetic. When John nodded politely at him and began to move away, he gripped his arm and turned him around, “John…What happened last night…it has never happened to me before…”

“Yes, you got scared. You believe you saw a monster”, John said trying to sound disinterested, “but you don’t wish to be treated like a child.” With that Parthian shot, he shook his arm free and turned away.

“John please…” Sherlock called out behind him. “I know it couldn’t have seen a monster but I did see something! So the question is how? How?”

“Yes. Thrilling. Good luck with that”, John said not looking back. He could feel his anger bubbling up within him.

“John!” Sherlock called out again. “What I said last night, I didn’t mean it!”

John stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him.

“You are my Omega and I do care about what you say. And I’ll do what you want John! If you want me to leave this case, I’ll do that too!” Sherlock continued. “I know you have been very upset with me these past few days and I sincerely apologize for my behaviour last night. I shouldn’t have said…”

John had heard enough. His anger exploded and he was marching back to grip Sherlock by the lapels before he even knew what he was doing. “Oh, you are sorry about your behaviour? Really? And you’ll do what I say? You are not the Alpha who I have to obey? Who is free to do as he pleases?” he growled up into Sherlock’s face.

“What… I’m sorry for saying that John. I really am. I have never forced you to do anything you didn’t like and I will listen to you. Tell me what it is you want!” Sherlock said a little bewildered by John’s outburst.

“I want my husband back!”John cried out. “Can you do that?! Can you give up your mistress for my sake?”

In the grey silence of the graveyard, John could only hear the thumping of his heart as he looked at the shocked expression on his husband’s face.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” he asked letting go of Sherlock and turning his face away in a desperate attempt to hide his tears.

Sherlock finally found his voice. He spun John around and asked, “What on earth are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about your affair with Irene Adler, Sherlock”, John said almost relishing the pain each word brought him. “I know I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. But I…I just cannot tolerate it anymore! I do not care how it’s done among the _ton_ , I cannot live such a hypocritical life!”

“John, stop this nonsense!” Sherlock interrupted angrily. “I am not having an affair! Not with Irene Adler and not with anyone else! Why would you think such a thing?!”

John looked at his husband in surprise. He looked furious. John had not expected this reaction.

“You have been spending a lot of time with that Woman. Driving around the park, cozying up at parties… people talk…”

“People do little else!” Sherlock expostulated with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“And I saw… I saw … the mark of her lips on your neck that night when you came back drunk. You were with her weren't you?” John asked. “Or do you deny that too?”

“Oh… now I see why you have been so upset,” Sherlock said softly, “there’s always something!” Then he focused his attention back on John. “I did go to see her that night but it is not what you think.”

John gave a watery smile and said bitterly, “It never is.”

“No… no John. She drugged me that night!” he looked at the disbelieving look on John’s face and sighed. “Let me explain. Irene Adler is an associate of Moriarty’s. She collects confidential information through liaisons with different noblemen and passes them on to Moriarty in exchange for wealth and protection. I have been tracking her for some time now trying to discover his whereabouts. That is why I have been spending so much time with her. I didn't want to tell you anything because I didn't want you to worry in your condition.”

With a rueful glance at John, he added, “That was clearly not one of my better decisions.”

“The night we went to the theatre, I had managed to secure a letter that was damaging to her reputation. It would have destroyed her in Polite Society and Moriarty would have no use for her anymore. It would have left her unprotected and at the mercy of those she has defrauded over the years. She asked to meet me urgently and I hoped she would finally reveal Moriarty’s whereabouts in return for the letter. She turned out to be more resourceful than I had expected. She drugged me and presumably searched my person for the letter. She must have …ahem…left her mark while I was unconscious. She didn’t find the letter because I had not taken it with me, so she came to Baker Street that day, trying to see if she could persuade you to give it up. But you of course knew nothing about it…”

“And when she realized that, she left me with another earful of insinuations about you and her”, John completed. He felt completely thrown. Sherlock’s explanation sounded sincere to his ears and if he were really having an affair, John thought he was not the type of man who would offer so many explanations to his Omega. He was looking at John with a pleading expression in his eyes and a strange vulnerability John had never seen before.

“You can check with Mycroft, John…or even Lestrade. They have all been keeping an eye on Irene”, Sherlock said anxiously.

“But still, why did she kiss your neck Sherlock? Have you been flirting with her to get this ‘information’ about Moriarty?” John asked determined to get to the heart of the matter.

“I think… I think she fancied me, John. But I have never returned the emotion. And she does like to cause trouble so she provoked you unnecessarily. She was flirting with me in the beginning when she thought I was interested in her but I soon made it clear that is not what I was after. Perhaps that rejection stung her too”, Sherlock shrugged helplessly.

John remained quiet and looked down at his feet, a slow wave of relief beginning to wash over him.

“Besides there is a much more important reason why I can’t possibly be having an affair”, Sherlock said as he lifted his mate’s chin to look into his honest blue eyes. “I love you, you little goose! You and only you!”

A tremulous smile appeared on John’s lips then, any remaining doubts blowing away like wisps of smoke. “Oh!” he managed to say before Sherlock bent down to bring their lips together in a passionate kiss that reinforced his words.

When they broke apart, John said urgently, “I love you too, Sherlock! I love you so much! I have been so afraid thinking that since ours is an arranged marriage, you might not feel the same. That now that I am with child, you may not find me attractive anymore…” His voice broke and he crushed himself to Sherlock’s chest.

“John, John! How can you even think that! I find you even more gorgeous now than you are carrying our child in your womb. I have been so caught up in trying to protect you and our pup from Moriarty… and I also thought that you were too delicate now to engage in… relations… I did not realize how you were interpreting my absence. You know how I can be”, Sherlock said wrapping his arms around his mate and dropping a kiss on his fair head. “I love you John Watson. You are my first and only love and I promise you will be the last.”

John pulled away to look at his Alpha’s face in wonder and Sherlock bent down to kiss him again. He sucked at his lip and kissed away the tears on his eyelashes. “Irrespective of the fact that our marriage has been arranged, you are the Omega to my Alpha. You are the only one who can put up with me! I love your warmth and your patience and your generosity and your courage”, he said fervently. “Your… your determination to feed me, your inability to tie a decent cravat and your fascination with tea!”

John laughed at that and Sherlock smiled briefly before looking at him seriously, “I love that you make me want to be a better man. So trust me and forgive me for causing you this pain. Forgive me.”

“You must forgive me for not having had more faith in you, my love. I promise I will share my worries with you the next time instead of letting it hurt our marriage. And I will always trust you. I love you”, John said and pulled his Alpha into another kiss and ran his fingers through those beloved curls, his heart bursting with happiness.

For the next few minutes, no more words were spoken. The sun had come out of the clouds and flooded the surroundings with a sudden warmth and colour. Far away a lark was singing and the wildflowers swayed in the gentle breeze, as a blond head pressed against a dark one.

When they finally parted, Sherlock cleared his throat and said, “John, about the case…”

“Ready when you are…” John replied with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it... Hope everyone's feeling better now! Angst, angst go away...maybe come again another day? Sherlock and John want to play! ;P
> 
> ___________
> 
> Some more delicious manips by labellecreation here:http://labellecreation.livejournal.com/39085.html


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for letting me know you enjoyed the last chapter...I am so glad! I know it was mushy but I was feeling pretty indulgent towards our favourite couple. :)  
> As for this chapter, a bit more case fic and then, smut ahoy!

That day at Baskerville, they spoke with Sir Henry Knight’s physician, Dr. Mortimer. He was as worried as Sir Henry about the apparition. “I fear if this hound continues to haunt his thoughts, Sir Henry will no longer be able to maintain his mental balance”, he said.

They also met Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton whose estate neighboured that of Sir Henry. They claimed that they had not heard any unearthly howls during the night of the sort Sir Henry was describing. Mr. Stapleton was a grim, humourless man and Mrs. Stapleton kept shooting furtive glances at him and said very little. As they were leaving the house they were accosted by little Kirstie Stapleton, their daughter, who had heard them talking. “I’ve heard the dog at night”, she whispered confidentially. “It sounded like this…Ooooo…”, she added for greater effect and nodded solemnly. Sherlock and John exchanged a glance – either the little girl was making up stories or her parents had been lying. “And while you’re looking for the dog, can you also find Bluebell?” she asked Sherlock. “Err, Bluebell?” “Yes, my rabbit. He’s run away too!” she said woefully. Sherlock and John were allowed to leave only after promising to look into the case of Bluebell the Vanishing Rabbit.

While John walked around Grimpen village, Sherlock explored the moors by daylight and discovered the Grimpen quagmire, which the innkeeper had told him about. At lunch, they had a visitor in the shape of Dr. Frankland who had also been Henry’s father’s closest friend. He had apparently heard of them and knew their true identity, so he had come down to offer his services if he could help in any way. He was a slightly oily character and John did not like him much. Dr. Frankland was something of a scientist and had had equipped his home with a small laboratory which interested Sherlock enormously.

John discovered, quite by accident, that their innkeeper had till some weeks back, owned a hound dog. The innkeeper’s wife was quite talkative especially when she found a sympathetic ear in a young pregnant Omega. When speaking about her love for animals, she had let slip that that she had till some months back, owned a dog. When questioned her about it, she quickly panicked and revealed that her husband had released the dog into the woods when they realized they couldn’t afford to feed it. When Sir Henry began complaining about a ghostly hound which had also apparently killed his father, they had been too frightened to tell anyone it might be their dog.

Sherlock drifted into his Mind Palace trying to reconcile the fearsome hound he had seen with the knowledge about the innkeeper’s pet. When he finally came out of his trance like state, he appeared more resolved. He asked Sir Henry Knight, much to his dismay, to accompany him to Dewer’s Hollow again but this time he also invited Dr. Frankland and Dr. Mortimer. “Need a scientific eye”, was his vague explanation. John thought it probably couldn’t hurt to have more company as they explored the sinister moor. He himself had refused yet again to stay at the inn while the others went adventuring.

That evening a fog bank had crept up on the moor, its edges made silvery in the moonlight. The assorted company soon fell silent, their whispers hushed by the eerie atmosphere. Sir Henry looked slightly manic with fear and John gripped Sherlock’s hand tightly. As they neared Dewer’s Hollow, Dr. Frankland had taken out his handkerchief and tied it around his nose and mouth. “It’s the pollen in this area… it gives me hay fever”, he said by way of explanation. Sherlock slipped out his own handkerchief and passed it to John. “In that case, my Omega needs to be protected too especially since he is with child”, he said smoothly. John did not question his husband but did as he was asked.

Suddenly there was a high pitched howl close at hand. Straight ahead of them, the eerie black shape of a beast had sprung out of the darkness of the fog. It was the phantom hound. Its whole body appeared to glow with an unearthly light, its muzzle and hackles outlined in flickering flame. For a moment, they stared at it frozen in shock. Then the hell-hound reared back on its haunches and prepared to leap and John’s protective instincts kicked in. Without thinking too much, he quickly pulled out his gun and fired a shot. The dog collapsed with a loud yelp and immediately the spell was broken.

 Sherlock turned to look at his companions. Dr. Mortimer had his hands over his face as if trying to protect himself. Sir Henry Knight was shivering in fear and he pulled him to the spot where the hound had fallen. “Look at it Henry! It’s dead! It’s over!” Sherlock said shaking the man out of his panic. “It was just a dog covered in chemicals to make it glow!”

There was a noise behind them and they turned to see Dr. Frankland backing away from them, his face ashen. Sherlock looked at him and said, “Dr. Frankland is your culprit, Henry. He’s the one who applied a phosphorus preparation on the dog! He has also released chemicals into the air here which is causing us to have hallucinations and envision a more fearsome creature than the hound actually is!” As soon as he had uttered the words, Dr. Frankland turned and began to run, not even bothering to defend himself.

Sherlock immediately took off after him after a quick glance at John who followed him more slowly with Dr. Mortimer and Sir Henry. It was difficult to see much through the shifting clouds of fog, and John kept his eyes fixed on his husband’s billowing greatcoat. Soon they heard Dr. Frankland let out a cry and the sounds of rustling leaves and snapping twigs. The man appeared to have tripped and fallen. Sherlock stopped and quickly put out a hand to stop his companions from following the man. “He’s fallen into the Grimpen Mire”, he said. Through the swirling mists they could smell the rank, rotting odour of the quagmire. There was a strange bubbling sound and John shivered and turned away to press himself against Sherlock. “There’s nothing more that we can do here”, Sherlock said and turned to leave holding John close to himself. His dazed companions followed him.

~O~

Later Sherlock explained that Dr. Frankland had been trying to harm Sir Henry because as per the terms of Henry’s father’s Will, in the event of any mishap, Dr. Frankland would have got control of the Baskerville fortune. It was a matter of debate how he had managed to induce Sir Henry’s father to make such a Will – whether he had misused his position as a close friend or employed some more chemicals. Sherlock had first suspected Dr. Frankland because of the strange glowing body of the hound. He had been trying to isolate all the individual elements of the horror that had burst on him the first night. With his knowledge of chemistry he knew that phosphorus could cause such an effect. This chain of thought led him back to Dr. Frankland and his laboratory and he took him along to try and expose his actions. The man’s sudden insistence on covering his mouth and nose had also raised Sherlock’s suspicions about a hallucinatory agent in the air.

“No wonder then that I just saw an eerily glowing hound whilst you and the others perhaps saw a much more fearsome sight”, John said.

“Yes, yes…we did”, Sherlock said distantly as though remembering. “I checked up on the provisions of Sir Henry’s Will when we came here. In most of the cases I have handled, money is most often a motivator of crime. Once you strip away the façade of a ghostly dog and the desolate moor, it was just about money.”

“And what of the peculiar Stapletons, Sherlock? Why did they say they had not heard the hound? They must have!”

“Oh, Stapleton has an axe to grind with Henry Knight – he and Henry have been locked in a dispute over a tract of farm land. He is a petty man and chose to conceal the truth if it would cause us to disbelieve Sir Henry. That is why his wife was so disturbed – because she was being forced to agree with her husband’s deception.”

“And Bluebell?” John asked with a grin. “I cannot be certain, but I do believe Dr. Frankland may have experimented on other animals before he chose the hound. So I like to think there is a glowing rabbit scampering around the great moor”, Sherlock said smirking.

“Perhaps we should get little Kirstie a new one to make up for her loss…and speak to the innkeeper’s wife about her dog”, John said thoughtfully and Sherlock smiled. “As you wish. After all, we have rid Baskerville of its demons…thanks in no small measure to your expert handling of firearms!”

John smiled and Sherlock cupped his face, “I have been rushing you about too much. You really need to take some rest now. Will you stay in Sherrinford for a bit?”

“I’m not staying anywhere without you Sherlock. And I know you’re happiest in London, so that’s where we’ll go”, John replied firmly.

“Stubborn little goose aren’t you?” Sherlock smiled as he intertwined their hands. “Truth is, I don’t want to be away from you either, so we will do as you say.”

John smiled happily at him. He thought the admission of their love for each other seemed to have somehow increased its depth.

“And now my love, you need to pay me some more attention. You have neglected me quite shamefully these past few weeks”, John said with a mischievous pout. He pressed a deep kiss to Sherlock’s beautiful Cupid’s bow lips and ran his fingers down to grip his husband’s arse to make his meaning clear.

“Oh… Are you sure John?” Sherlock looked down at him and asked, his dilated pupils belying his restraint.

“I want you Sherlock”, John breathed against Sherlock’s neck and nipped his ear. “I want you so much.” He was gratified to feel an answering hardness from his Alpha.

“Well in that case, your wish is my command”, Sherlock said and swooped down to suck on John’s mouth while he attempted to disrobe him.

“Why do we wear so many clothes!” John grumbled as they staggered towards the bed pulling off cravats, waistcoats and undershirts.

Sherlock smirked as he struggled with his mate’s trousers amidst kisses that had grown frantic. “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you choose to remain unclothed and ready for me at all hours!” he said lasciviously sending a throb of excitement through John at the thought and a gush of wetness between his legs.

When he finally lay back against the pillows divested of his clothes, he suddenly remembered how different he looked from his earlier self. Sherlock was looking at him intently as he straddled his legs. John flushed and plucked at the sheets trying belatedly to cover his chest and belly.

Sherlock stilled his hand, “Don’t do that John! You have nothing to be shy about. Your body is so glorious now, preparing to bear my child”, he said with a worshipful look on his face as he drew the sheets away. “Mine”, he said in a low growl as he bent to rub and kiss John’s rounded little belly. His lips moved slowly upwards scenting and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. When he reached John’s chest, he mouthed a swollen dusky pink nipple and the Omega shuddered and clutched at his husband helplessly, “Oh…oh…Sherlock!” Sherlock sucked a bit more before lavishing attention on the other bud. John was so sensitive there now that he had to push his Alpha away for fear that he would come too soon if he continued his ministrations.

Sherlock lifted his head and said in a voice deep with need, “How do you want to do this? Do you want to ride me? Or do you want to lie on your side while I take you? Fill you with my seed. Over and over…”

John gasped, a part of his mind thrilled at how well Sherlock had learned to play the Alpha card. He looked into Sherlock’s hypnotic eyes and said, “Let me ride you first. I want to see your face as you fill me.”

When John had managed to straddle Sherlock, he held his gravid belly and bent down as far as he could to kiss him. Sherlock came up halfway to meet him and thrust his tongue into his mouth. John moaned as he drew back and then positioning himself, eased down on his mate’s length in one smooth movement, his body wet and ready. The fullness and stretch felt delicious and his own cock hardened further. John moaned in pleasure and began to bounce on his mate’s cock as Sherlock gripped his hips and easily lifted him up and down, supporting his movements.

The sight of Sherlock’s flushed face and the aroused expression in his silver blue eyes was like an aphrodisiac and John soon spurted in pleasure, clenching around him before going boneless. He would have collapsed had Sherlock not been holding on to him.

Sherlock raised John and laid him on his side to spoon him from behind. “John..?” he asked his voice breathless with desire. John kissed his palm and murmured, “Yes, yes!”

Sherlock kissed his shoulder and entered him again, thrusting into him till he knotted and achieved his own earth-shaking climax.

When Sherlock had softened enough to pull out, they lay facing each other, just kissing and touching and scenting each other’s bodies, exploring it as if seeing it with new eyes.

“I missed you so much”, John said running a hand over his husband’s hip.

“I didn’t know you wanted to… I thought maybe it might hurt you… Stupid, stupid, stupid”, Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

“We’ve both been stupid”, John said as he rubbed the belly between them. He paused for a moment before asking, “Are you going to see her again?”

Sherlock looked into his eyes and ran a thumb over his lips, “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want to interfere with your investigations… And you still need to find Moriarty”, John said quietly.

“I want to speak to her just one last time to see if she will reveal Moriarty’s whereabouts in exchange for the letter. If she still has nothing of import to say, then I will give her up as a source. I’d like you to accompany me when I interview her. You are my partner in my Work as well and I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore”, Sherlock said and found John’s mouth again, sucking on his tongue and slipping a hand down between his legs, till he moaned in bliss.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, Sherlockians, shippers, lend me your ears! Or not. Just listening to me will do. :P  
> Real Life is getting in the way of Imagination. So even though I have the rest of the story in my head, more or less, I'm finding very little time to write it. :(  
> Keep Calm and Wish me well.

When they got back to London, Sherlock was obsessive about John getting enough rest. He arranged for the doctor to visit to ensure that the excitement at Baskerville hadn’t affected him in any way. “It has affected him”, the doctor said and both John and Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment, “but only in a most favourable way. He seems much happier since the last time I checked on him and the baby is growing just fine.” Sherlock locked eyes with his mate and they both exchanged a smile.

Sherlock also spent as much time as he could with John. As his pregnancy progressed, John’s need for Sherlock had become almost insatiable. He constantly wanted to smell him and touch him, suck him and be filled by him, his entire body now a mass of sensations. Sherlock indulged him as much as possible, only too happy to service his Omega. He made love to him and played the violin for him with equal passion. He read to him as John lay pillowing his head on his lap. John said he loved to hear Sherlock’s sonorous voice and he insisted the baby could hear him too. It was during one of these moments, as John lay pleasantly lulled by the deep voice, his hair being smoothed back by his Alpha’s strong hand that John first felt his baby kick.

“Oh!” he said putting a hand down on his belly. “What is it?” Sherlock asked immediately. “I…I think the baby just kicked. Oh…yes… here put your hand here Sherlock… There…did you feel it?” John beamed at him. Sherlock for once in his life was rendered speechless. He just looked in wonder at John before kissing his forehead reverently.

 

Irene Adler had disappeared from the social scene. Her townhouse was closed and it was rumoured that she had left for the Continent. One day, Mycroft summoned Sherlock to his club, The Diogenes, to discuss a ‘matter connected to Miss Irene Adler’, as per his note. Sherlock took John along, still feeling compelled to prove that he had nothing to conceal.

Mycroft sniffed disapprovingly to see John but Sherlock stuck out his chin adamantly and said, “I’ve told him everything.”

“Irene Adler is dead. Her body was found early this morning”, Mycroft said bluntly.

John was shocked and he couldn’t resist taking a look at Sherlock’s face. Sherlock looked as taken aback as him, he saw, and nothing more.

“Are you certain?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, there was really no doubt of her identity. She was poisoned, lay dead in her own bed”, Mycroft answered.

“Could have been Moriarty. Or any one of the people she had been using all this time may have just got tired and decided to end it all”, Sherlock said thoughtfully. “She was too clever for her own good.”

 

Irene’s death left them again adrift in their hunt for Moriarty. However, John was quite happy to go back to preparing for his pup to be born while Sherlock kept his mind occupied with some other cases. He made sure not to take up anything away from London. He would come home to share the details of what he had been up to and use John as his sounding board as he always had. When he received clients at Baker Street, John joined him for his meetings.

In any case, there was no dearth of visitors. Lady Anthea used to call frequently and was pleased to see him in good health and spirits. She told him how no one could have predicted that the temperamental Sherlock would turn out to be such a loving and devoted husband. “You are so good for him John”, she said. Lord Lestrade echoed her sentiments saying gravely, “Sherlock Homes is a great man, John. And I think we are very lucky that with you, he has also become a good one.”

During this halcyon period, Sherlock’s career as a consulting detective also blossomed. He received acclaim for retrieving a famous painting, catching a notorious highwayman, breaking up a ring of bootleggers and rescuing a kidnapped Duke. He was rewarded handsomely and keeping in mind that he was soon to be a father, he accepted the gifts less disdainfully than he might have done before. Of course, John’s own wealth was considerable and Sherlock would also receive an enhanced sum from his own family Trust, now that he was to be father to the heir to Sherrinford. However, he liked to think he would be able to provide for his Omega and pup with his own earnings.

~O~

Winter soon swept in and John was looking forward to spending his first Christmas with Sherlock. It was typically a holiday Sherlock tried his best to ignore, albeit unsuccessfully. This year, with a pregnant and glowing John by his side, he was more content to enjoy it than he cared to admit. Mrs. Hudson and John gleefully planned a grand Christmas dinner and decorated the house with holly, ivy and mistletoe. Sherlock retaliated by catching John under the mistletoe at every possible opportunity.

On Christmas Day, they were joined at Baker Street by Lord and Lady Holmes, John’s parents and sister, Lord Lestrade and Molly Hooper. The house was lit up with candles and there was a roaring fire in the hearth. Steaming wassail was handed out to the guests and at Mrs. Hudson’s request, Sherlock graciously agreed to play carols on his violin. They had a sumptuous feast with roast beef and venison, goose and turkey with stuffing. Vegetables such as potatoes, squash, Brussels sprouts and carrots were also served. But the highlight was a delicious plum pudding, ornamented with a sprig of holly and set ablaze with brandy. Mycroft’s eyes actually gleamed as he took in the vision. He had been hovering near the array of desserts on offer picking up a mince pie here and a sugar plum there. John had to nudge his husband to stop him from sniggering aloud.

Howard Watson was in an expansive mood. He had come laden with gifts for everyone and was too pleased with life to notice their protests. He could see that John was happy and Sherlock was devoted to him. Indeed he fussed over him almost as much as Howard would have done himself. It was clear that the decision to marry off his son into the Holmes family had been another one of his brilliant notions. He looked at where Harry stood with a glass of whisky in her hand gazing moodily at the fire. It was time to settle her with that Omega of hers, he thought and went to consult his wife.

Lord Lestrade and Molly Hooper had grown closer and as John looked at their heads bent together in conversation, he confidently anticipated a Happy Announcement any day. He said as much to Sherlock, who told him in a bored voice that it was going to be tonight going by the shape of the small box in Lestrade’s left coat pocket and the fact that he kept putting his hand in it to check that he hadn’t misplaced it. John was excited but he refrained from commenting till Lestrade and Molly shared the good news with him themselves.

Instead he sat back in his sofa and watched contentedly as his friends and family milled around him. His pup also appeared to be enjoying the Christmas festivities as he kicked him often and well, quieting only with the touch of Sherlock’s hand on his belly.

The next morning, Sherlock took John along to hand out charity baskets to the Baker Street Irregulars. It had been John’s idea and Sherlock appreciated it knowing it would mean a lot to the poor street urchins. Sherlock spent some time in quiet conversation with Wiggins. When John asked him, he reluctantly revealed that the boy had told him that the word on the street was that “Something big is coming.” It cast a shadow on John’s happiness so Sherlock spent the day trying to distract him and in the evening took him to see a Christmas pantomime at Drury Lane.

 

The festive winter season passed in a blissful haze of good friends and good food and thankfully, to John’s mind, no news of Moriarty. There were several balls and festivities Sherlock and he were invited to, but given John’s advanced stage, they preferred to spend time at Baker Street. John would bundle himself in warm clothes and curl up by the fireside reading a book or writing in his journal while Sherlock did his experiments nearby. However some days, the inactivity would irk him and like Sherlock, he too would get bored. Today was one such day.

After reading for a while, John struggled out of his couch with an exaggerated sigh aimed at Sherlock. His husband took no notice and continued fidgeting with a glass dish containing what looked like a thumb. So of course, John had to go over to sit next to the man.

“Sherrrlock”, he said rolling his tongue around the name. “Hmm?” the man replied distractedly.

“What are you doing?” John asked his husband playfully, pressing close to him.

“John, not now”, Sherlock said warningly, his eyes still not leaving the dish as he picked up his quill to jot down some notes.

John leaned closer to him as though trying to peer into his notebook. “Is it a very important experiment?” he asked teasingly as he nosed his husband’s neck and smiled at the blush that slowly began to creep up on it.

“John, I said not now”, Sherlock said again aiming for stern but only sounding a little helpless.

“More important than me?” John pouted coyly as he placed a hand over Sherlock’s thigh and began stroking it.

His husband was now definitely distracted but trying hard to put up a fight. The hand holding the quill shook a little and faltered. But Sherlock pursed his lips tightly, took a deep breath and resumed scribbling.

“More important than your Omega, so heavy with your pups?” John whispered into his ear as his hand moved to Sherlock’s crotch. Sherlock gave up.

“You little minx!” he exclaimed, turning to John and wiped the smug smile off his Omega’s face with a rough kiss.

He then proceeded to take care of John’s boredom in a most satisfactory fashion.


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock’s success as a detective had a direct correlation to his state of mind. And now that he was possibly the most content that he had ever been, his rate of solving cases increased significantly. Spurred on by a primal desire to provide for his Omega and child, he also took up many more cases and his fame spread far and wide. It was still not quite the sort of thing mentioned openly in Polite Society but most of the lords and quite a few of the ladies now knew that they had a consulting detective in their midst who could be trusted to retrieve the family heirloom or tackle a blackmailer with discretion. 

John began to feel the first stirrings of unease when he caught a sly reference to Sherlock in one of the high society rags. “Mr. Boffin solves another Puzzle!” the newspaper read. It proceeded to detail Sherlock’s latest exploit without naming any names but with several gushing references to high cheekbones and unruly curls.  The writer of this Society piece, Kitty Riley, was clearly a fan of Sherlock’s.  There was also a passing mention of how “Mr. Boffin” was frequently seen in the company of his “middleclass Omega”. Not a fan of his then, John thought amusedly.

“I think we need to be more careful Sherlock”, he told his husband.

“What do you mean careful?” Sherlock asked quirking an eyebrow.

“I mean, this is all getting a bit much. You are not exactly a private detective anymore. You’re this far from famous!” John said gesturing with his fingers.

“It’ll pass”, Sherlock said nonchalantly.

“It had better pass. It leaves us very vulnerable if everyone can read about us at their breakfast table. Today they may laud your brilliance but tomorrow these same people will just as easily resent it. Public opinion is a mercurial thing Sherlock”, John said, trying to convey his worry.

“Stop worrying John. And stop reading these idiotic journals”, his husband replied plucking the paper out of his hands. “Boffin!” he said crinkling his nose his disgust as he saw the article.

John sighed. “Look, just find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the Society gossip.”

 

But John’s wish was not to be as Lestrade came to visit Sherlock that very morning with a tense expression on his grey face and an urgent request. “James Moriarty broke into the Palace last night. He was calmly sitting on His Majesty’s throne and playing with his crown when he was intercepted! No one knows how he managed to enter the chamber in the presence of so many guards. He has been incarcerated in the Tower and questioned repeatedly.  But despite being flogged to within an inch of his life, he refuses to say anything other than ‘Get Sherlock’!” Lestrade told them anxiously.

Sherlock and John exchanged a worried glance before getting ready to leave for the Tower with him. Just as they were about to get into the carriage, a page boy ran up with a missive for John. His eyes widened as he read through the contents. “It’s from Father. There has been an intrusion at the Bank of England! Nothing was taken but a card saying ‘Get Sherlock’ was left behind. Father’s terribly worried and he’s asking for your help. What does all this mean Sherlock?”

“It means that he’s trying to get my attention”, Sherlock said through gritted teeth. John didn’t have to ask him more to understand that he was referring to Moriarty. He clenched his fists and followed Sherlock.

When they reached the Tower, Lestrade was told there had someone had opened the main gates at Pentonville Prison and the king’s soldiers were struggling to understand how it had happened and if anyone had escaped. “That’s three of the most secure places in London, now! Wouldn’t be surprised if I find a card with your name there as well!” Lestrade said and rushed off, leaving Sherlock and John to speak to Moriarty.

They found a battered but still smug looking Moriarty waiting for them in a dank little dungeon manned by several soldiers. There were shadows under his eyes and bruises on his face, but the ghost of a smile still hovered on his face. He leered at the sight of a pregnant John and the Omega had to control himself from shielding behind his Alpha. “Oh Johnny boy, so big and round with pups. Your last Heat was very productive I see,” Moriarty sneered suggestively. A cold hand seemed to clench around John’s heart, as the memory of their last encounter flashed into his mind, but Sherlock had already stepped in front of him.

“Shut your filthy mouth, Moriarty! And stop acting like an imbecile and tell me what you want with me”, Sherlock growled.

“Oh, so you got my message then?” the man answered facetiously. “Good…good… I was just appreciating your fairytale life Sherlock. Public acclaim, a lovely Omega mate, a child on the way…,” Moriarty paused for a moment, his wolfish grin slipping off his face. “But all fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain. And that’s me. We have scores to settle Sherlock. You have been interfering in my business so I thought I’d just let you have a taste of what I can do. Tell me, how is your poor father-in-law and his precious Bank. Or your friend Lestrade. Running from pillar to post is he?”

When Sherlock didn’t reply, he continued, the menace in his voice deepening, “I owe you a fall Sherlock. I. O. U.”

“What on earth are you talking about?!” John said angrily now itching to land a punch across the hated face. Behind him, there was a jangling of keys and some other men entered the dank chamber. They nodded to Sherlock and John recognized a couple of them as being part the Regent’s courtiers. “We wanted to know why the prisoner wanted us to ‘get’ you so urgently Sherlock. What could possibly be his connection to you!” Lord Anderson said a trifle nastily, widening his eyes as if in surprise.

With all eyes focused on him, Moriarty slumped down in his chair all his bravado seeming to seep out of him. “My name is Richard Brook”, he announced. “I am just a poor actor. Mr. Holmes here paid me to pretend to be James Moriarty.” As they stared at him in shock, Moriarty continued. “He commits the crime and he solves it, he blames it all on an arch-villain…that’s his recipe for success! The abduction of the ambassador’s children? The stolen Jariah diamond? It’s all been staged! A clever ruse to make you believe in the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes!”

The courtiers immediately erupted into shocked whispers, but Moriarty continued, this time turning suddenly tearful eyes to Sherlock. “But please Mr. Holmes! This is too much! This is not what I agreed to. I have been beaten and flogged and I may be sentenced to death for helping you play your little game. I’m sorry but I cannot continue.”

“No! You are Moriarty!” John burst out pointing a finger at him angrily and looking at the other men in the room who were looking at him with a wary expression. “He’s James Moriarty! He kidnapped me!”

As Moriarty began to plead and cry, Sherlock finally found his voice. “Stop it! Stop this nonsense NOW!” he roared, baring his teeth and taking a step towards the man.

“No, no! Please don’t hurt me sir!” he said cowering. He looked at the other men imploring, “Please don’t let him hurt me!”

Before Sherlock could say or do much more, he and John were being ushered out of the room. They stood to a side, Sherlock literally shaking with anger as the Regent’s men conferred with one another. After a while Sir Anderson came up to them and said pompously, “Best if you take your Omega home now, Sherlock. We will have to speak to His Majesty and the Court will decide on the next steps.”

Sherlock was silent on the journey home and sat with his brow furrowed, lost in thought.  John sat fuming. He couldn’t believe that it was possible to take up a false persona so easily. He felt outraged to think that Moriarty was trying to prove that Sherlock was a fraud. He placed a hand on his belly trying to calm himself and with the other he picked up Sherlock’s hand and pressed a soft kiss on it. “Don’t worry, love”, he said when Sherlock’s eyes focused on him. “We’ll sort this out.”

“You believe me don’t you, John?” Sherlock asked him, his vulnerability reflecting in his silver eyes.

“Of course! I know you are for real”, John answered calmly.

“One hundred percent?” Sherlock asked again as though testing his limits.

“Well, no one could fake being such an annoying genius all the time!” he locked eyes with Sherlock and they exchanged a smile.

 

At Baker Street, they found Howard Watson and Lord Mycroft waiting for them. They were both aware of the developments.

“This is not good”, John’s father said shaking his head. “That man is out to get you Sherlock.”

Mycroft frowned, “My people are bringing me news about the developments but… The courtiers are a distrustful bunch and the Regent is easily swayed.”

John looked at him anxiously. “But they cannot mean to arrest Sherlock, can they? He has helped the Prince Regent himself on some matters. And quite a few important members of the Parliament. They cannot seriously doubt him!”

Howard Watson locked eyes with Mycroft and a look of understanding passed between them. “It is very hard to kill an idea, Johnny”, his father said cryptically. “Not once it’s made a home…there”, he said resting a fingertip on John’s forehead.

John was about to say more but Sherlock cut him off. “I think you should go and stay with your parents for some time, John… Things could be a bit turbulent here and...” Sherlock turned away but John grabbed his arm and pulled him back around.

“I believe in you, Sherlock Holmes!” he said passionately.  “And I am not leaving you alone at this time! I will be safe wherever my Alpha is and you know I would rest easier knowing that I am around to take care of you.”

Sherlock’s lip quirked upward as he looked his Omega’s fiery eyes. John gave him a small smile in return looking into Sherlock’s stormy eyes and trying to calm the worry gnawing at his breast.

Howard Watson thought of protesting but the objection died on his lips at the devoted look on his son’s face. He knew there was nothing he could say to change John’s mind. He sighed, suddenly feeling the burden of his years. He looked at Mycroft who was also looking resignedly at the pair lost in each other’s eyes.

Mycroft cleared his throat, “Well brother, we’ll take our leave now. I’ll let you know in case I receive more news from Court. And you too Mr. Watson. Please do not worry unduly – it may all be much ado about nothing.”

 

But it had just been the calm before the storm. In the night, they received a message from Lestrade. Moriarty had made his escape from the Tower. No one knew how he had done it but the rumours were flying thick and fast that Sherlock must have helped him. A few courtiers were planning to detain Sherlock at His Majesty’s pleasure the next morning.

“Oh, how dare they!” John said furiously as Sherlock read out the message.

“John, it’s okay…”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. They cannot accuse you like this…”

Sherlock gripped his shoulders. “John, listen to me. Just pack a few things quickly. We are leaving for the Continent tonight – I will not be able to clear my name sitting in gaol.” He gave a tight smile and his eyes blazed, “So I’m doing what Moriarty wants – becoming a fugitive!”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you have pointed out, strands of ACD canon are also getting entwined in these later chapters, along with BBC Sherlock, the Regency and Omegaverse. So yes, its quite a colourful yarn I'm weaving!
> 
> And thanks so much for the support you are showing this story! Be it through the kudos, the comments, the recs or the art. It means a lot to me and you, dear reader, are the magnet that keeps pulling me back to this fic.

They had reached Paris without incident, especially as Sherlock had taken several precautions including a disguise for himself. He took on the role of curmudgeonly old man jealously possessive about his young pregnant Omega, which gave him the excuse of insisting on a veiled hat for his mate. John was astonished when he first saw his husband in grey whiskers and a wig and stooping over a cane. He later reflected that he shouldn’t have been surprised that Sherlock was as good at disguise as at any other thing he put his mind to. Sherlock had been worried that the crossing the Channel might prove difficult for his pregnant mate but John proved to be stronger than he expected. John was always stronger than he expected, Sherlock thought fondly.

They spent only a night in Paris before Sherlock decided to move on and put as much of a distance as he could between themselves and Moriarty’s minions or the Regent’s men. Their travels took them from Paris to Brussels. Sherlock insisted on constantly doubling back and forth between locations to cover their tracks. They stayed at nondescript little inns and hotels to avoid detection though Sherlock tried to ensure that John was provided with all basic comforts wherever they went.

John was now heavily pregnant and he could not say that running across the Continent was easy for him. He had grown very big and could not seem to find a restful position to sit or sleep in for any length of time. He was also unable to run or react as fast as he would have liked and he was vexed to think that he might be slowing Sherlock down. However, he was also certain that he would rather be uncomfortable and with Sherlock, than comfortable but worried sick somewhere else.  So he did not complain and tried to keep calm as his husband tried to keep them safe and track down their enemies.

The days rolled by slowly and they passed their time in quiet pursuits trying to remain unnoticed on foreign shores. John stayed indoors writing in his journal or reading. Sherlock prowled the streets and waited impatiently for coded messages from Mycroft informing him about the situation in London. There was predictably no trace of Moriarty and Sherlock was sure that he was on the Continent and on their trail. When his Alpha’s anxiety increased, John could feel it strum through his veins. The bond between Sherlock and him was becoming stronger and more primal as John’s pregnancy neared its final stages. They could sense each other better and couldn’t stay apart for more than a couple of hours at a time. John did not know if this was normal or if this was happening because of their circumstances. Sherlock would pace restlessly, his hair springing wildly around his head and his eyes flashing, as he chafed at their self-imposed confinement. John would then quietly draw him close and place Sherlock’s head on his breast and his hand on his belly. He had found that it calmed both of them down.

As the winter snows melted away, they moved to Strasbourg for a short while and then onwards to Geneva via Basel. In a small picturesque hamlet in Geneva, they rented a chalet for a few weeks. “The landlord owes me a favour”, Sherlock said as John rolled his eyes. The chalet was set on a small incline which provided a wonderful view – from the fresh greenery heralding spring in the hamlet to the pristine white of the snow capped Alps all around. The village was nearby if supplies or a midwife were needed but it was also just far enough to afford them the privacy they required. The chalet’s landlord was also a trained physician and that added to Sherlock’s peace of mind.

John was tired of staying indoors all the time and wanted to maintain whatever little agility he had left, so Sherlock often took him on leisurely walks through the mountain passes and by the lakes. John loved to sit gazing at the blue waters and feeding the ducks with crumbs. He didn’t tell Sherlock but sometimes he liked to pretend that they were there on a holiday and not hiding from their enemies. Sherlock would look at him fondly and rub his belly and kiss his lips softly and promise himself that he would never let anyone hurt John. Though he had become much calmer now that they had come so far unmolested, Sherlock remained constantly on alert. Especially with his pregnant Omega by his side, Sherlock’s inner Alpha refused to relax his vigil for an instant and his penetrating eyes scrutinized everything and everyone they happened to pass.

A short distance away from their chalet was the famous local attraction, the Reichenbach Falls. Their landlord urged them to take a look at it and so Sherlock and John made their way there one crisp April morning, slowly walking hand in hand. They followed the swollen green stream and when they emerged from the trees they saw the land sloped downwards before abruptly dropping away and taking the river down with it. From where they stood, they could see the turbulent Falls and the dark abyss into which it plunged. The unrestrained torrent, the deep abyss edged with cruel black rocks and the smoky sheet of spray where the water hit the rocks affected John in a way he could not explain. He cringed in unease, suddenly breathless and panic stricken. A sharp pain raced through his abdomen and he clutched Sherlock’s arm. “John! Are you alright? Are you in pain?” Sherlock asked alarmed. The pain passed and John slowly began to breathe freely again. “I’m fine. Let’s just go back”, he said tiredly, not wanting to spend more time listening to the sound of water crashing onto the rocks.

John did not feel any more pain that day and the landlord checked him and assured them that he was well and could expect to deliver in another week or at most two. Sherlock curled up with him in bed and they lay talking about their future, deciding on names for their child and pretending that Moriarty’s capture and their safe return home was fact rather than desperate hope.

 

The next morning, Sherlock got on to his horse and left for the village to check on whether  there was any message waiting for him from Mycroft. As he stood at the window watching Sherlock ride away, John felt a pang in his chest that seemed to spread across his swollen abdomen before subsiding. He felt restless and worried though he couldn’t say why, so he tried to soothe himself by rubbing slow circles over his belly. When he was disturbed by a knock at the door more than hour later, he was still feeling incredibly anxious. A large man stood outside, having clearly arrived in the coach that stood some distance away in the yard.

“Are you John Watson?” he asked.

“What is it?” John asked breathlessly.

“I’m carrying a message for John Watson”, he said truculently.

“I’m John Watson”, John replied irritably, “What is the message?"

“Your husband awaits you near the stream sir. The Reichenbach. He has asked that you collect your belongings and then I will take you there in me coach. He is injured but he has asked you not to worry”, he intoned. “You should probably carry some bandages though”, he added as an afterthought as John stood looking up at him in panic.

“What? What has happened to him? Is he… Who are you?” John asked.

“My name is Moran, sir. Coachman. Your husband has paid me to take you to him. You can check for yourself how badly hurt he is. Was standing on his own two feet when I left him”, the lout answered. “Now are you coming or not?”

John didn’t know what to make of it. What had happened to Sherlock? What could Sherlock have found that was threatening their stay in the chalet? Why hadn’t he come for John himself? Could it be a trap laid by their enemies? He looked around for the landlord but was told by the help that he had been called away by a patient in the hamlet. Finally, the thought of Sherlock lying somewhere wounded and helpless, decided John. He packed their meager belongings, some first aid supplies, quickly scribbled a note to the landlord and left the chalet tucking his gun into his waistband.

His heart pounded in his chest and his breath came in short gasps as the coach rumbled its way over the uneven tracks. He tried to reach out to Sherlock over their bond trying to sense how he was but in his disturbed state all he could pick up was anxiety and fear and he didn’t know if it came from him or from his husband. The coach rolled to a halt and John saw they had reached the spot where Sherlock and he had been the day before. The roar of the Reichenbach Falls filled his ears and added to his tumult. As Moran helped him step out, he felt a stab of pain course through him.  A man stood at some distance away, almost at the edge of the waterfall, with his back to him. There was no sign of Sherlock.

The man slowly turned and John saw with horror that it was James Moriarty. The dark hair was slicked back and the menacing grin was in place as he twirled a cane and walked toward John. “So good of you to join me, John. I have been expecting you for some time”, he said grinning evilly. The coach had begun to move away and John realized too late that he was trapped. “Where is Sherlock?” he said pulling out his gun and pointing it at Moriarty.

“Tsk, tsk. Do put away the gun, John. Is this how you greet an old friend?” Moriarty smirked walking closer.

“Don’t. Don’t come any closer… or I’ll shoot”, John said trying to sound braver than he felt. There was a strange feeling in his belly and he could feel a cold sweat break out on his forehead. It took him all his strength to keep his hand and voice steady.

Moriarty took a few more steps towards him and made an expression of astonishment. “Oh! And you are so pregnant John! Sherlock must have fucked you well for you to grow so big after just one Heat”, he said conversationally. John’s inner Omega cringed and he could feel his face burning.

“Shut up, you bastard! Come any closer and I’ll take your head off!” he ground out.

Moriarty continued as if he hadn’t heard him at all. “You look even more delicious than when we last met. Pregnancy really suits you… The glowing complexion, the big round belly, the growing mounds on your chest… Tell me are they full of milk yet?”

“Shut your filthy mouth!” John screamed and fired a shot in the air hoping to scare the man. The recoil throbbed through his arm and travelled down his shoulders, the sound ricocheting wildly around them. He looked around desperately but there was no one nearby. The rolling land stretched around them edged by a dark copse of cedars on his right and the booming water crashing on the rocks below to his left.

Moriarty licked his lips and ran his eyes down his body. “You would taste sooo good right now. Especially with your juices running down your leg…”

John looked down in horror and realized that his breeches were stained and quickly getting wetter. His waters had broken. Before he could look up, Moriarty had smacked the cane over his hand and knocked the gun away. John cried out in pain and tears stung his eyes. Moriarty slowly unsheathed the rapier he had hidden within his cane and pointed its tip to John’s stomach. His smile was gone and only the cold dead gaze in his eyes remained. “Don’t even think about moving. I will carve you and your child up and make you into shoes.”

John whimpered and clutched his belly as a small contraction coursed through him. “Where’s… where’s Sherlock?” he gasped.

“That is what I am hoping to find out, my dear. Let me explain, in case it wasn’t clear to your tiny Omega brain – this is a trap and you are the bait. Just like at the Carl Fountains.” Moriarty smiled insanely, his small teeth looking sharp and pointed. “Except that this time I am not willing to be distracted.”


	22. Chapter 22

John sat on the ground with his feet apart, holding on to his knees. His face was flushed and his eyes were swimming with tears. The contractions were hitting him hard and his fear for his child threatened to overpower him. Moriarty circled around him like a bird of prey looking excited to see him in this state. He grinned and ran the blade of his sword over John teasingly.

 John felt hot tears trickle out of his eyes and he bit his lips trying to control himself. But he knew it was futile. The birthing process had begun and he was trapped in the open with a maniac and with no sign of his mate. As another powerful contraction tore through him, he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed his Alpha’s name, “Sherrrrlock…!”

Suddenly there was a new sound and John looked to his right. He was rewarded with the welcome sight of Sherlock bursting through the trees riding hard on his black horse. His curls created a wild halo around his face and his pale face was contorted in a snarl of rage – his eyes blazing and his teeth bared – as he spurred the horse onwards. The look on his face clearly promised a world of pain to the man who was threatening his Mate.

 John shuddered in relief to see him even as his mind began to worry about what might happen next and his body prepared for another contraction.

Moriarty wasted no time. He quickly pointed his rapier at the Omega’s throat, the point digging in to draw blood as Sherlock neared. Sherlock reined in and dismounted almost before the horse could stop completely. He pulled out his own sword and strode over to them, his face fearsome in its rage. “Stand away from my mate!” he roared.

“Or you’ll do what?” Moriarty taunted coolly. “He would be dead before you had a chance to swing that sword at me.”

Sherlock looked down at John, the rage in his eyes melting to something much more vulnerable. John blinked away his tears as he looked at Sherlock, a sense of fatality sweeping over him.

“All my life I’ve been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don’t even have you. Because I’ve beaten you”, Moriarty said shaking his head as though in disappointment while he moved the sword lazily down to John’s belly, “You’re just ordinary – you’re on the side of the angels.”

“Oh, I may be on the side of the angels but don’t think for one second that I am one of them!” Sherlock replied, his voice deep and rough with pain and anger, even the skies seeming to darken at his declaration.

Moriarty looked closely at his face. “No… no you really aren’t, are you?” he exclaimed, suddenly gleeful, his mad eyes glittering. “So what do you say we have a gentleman’s duel? A duel unto death! Wouldn’t that be a truly glorious way to die?!”

“I would like nothing better than to drive my sword through your repulsive body! Step away from John and come fight me!” Sherlock said sensing that this could be his chance.

“En garde!” Moriarty shouted suddenly as he lunged at Sherlock. Sherlock blocked the thrust with a clang of his sword before throwing off the man. Moriarty stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance and came at him again, his murderous intent all too clear on his face. But this time Sherlock was ready for him as he parried and thrust. Moriarty was the smaller man and that gave him agility if not strength. He sidestepped deftly and whirled, slashing at Sherlock’s arm and drawing blood. John cried out but Sherlock carried on as if he had not even felt a scratch. He circled his sword in a wide arc catching his gloating opponent on his side. “Touché!” the maniac retorted as he touched the cut and looked at his bloody fingers. He laughed and lifted his sword high again as Sherlock charged.

John lay back on the green earth and loosened his trousers, now unable to fight against the pain. He breathed noisily through his mouth, bent his knees and prayed that his Alpha would be able to fight off the madman. It felt like everything hurt, his mind and his body, as he lay sobbing and wet on the ground. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead and the urge to push increased with every contraction. He gazed at the vast expanse of grey blue sky above him as the clashing sound of sword upon sword echoed over the sound of the Falls roaring in his ears.

He tried to tell himself that it would be over soon. Sherlock would come to his side and hold his hand and tell him that it was all over. He would take him somewhere safe and their child would be born healthy and loved. But the spasms hitting his body refused to agree. Layering his own pain and anguish, he could feel Sherlock’s anger and fear through their bond. And now, running through it all like a thin red thread through his graying thoughts, the consciousness of his unborn child. Something was wrong! His pup was struggling!

No! This couldn’t be happening. It took all his strength to lift himself off the ground on an elbow and look at the two figures moving further and further away from him in a dance of death. “Sher…  Sherl… Sherlock”, he huffed out, trying to gather the strength to call out for his husband. The two men in front of him continued moving swiftly, skirting each other, thrusting and parrying, the blade of their swords glinting in a stray beam of sunlight. John saw that they were getting closer to the edge of the Falls, sprays of water rising up in smoky fingers to lick at them.

“Sherlock!” he called out frantically, now as much for his mate as for his child. But no one seemed to hear him as the water churned and bubbled and the blood rushed to his head. “Sher…”, he tried again as he saw his husband cross Moriarty’s sword against his neck and press down close to him till the man was trapped by blades on both sides of his face.  He saw as though frozen in a painting the two men silhouetted against the cliffs, Moriarty’s free hand snaking up to wrap itself around Sherlock. And then they were falling backwards, suspended, for an instant, at an impossible angle at the mouth of the Falls. And suddenly John was alone.

“Sherrrrloccck!” he screamed as a fog of pain clouded his mind and burned through his body before a blessed darkness descended, blotting out all conscious thought.


	23. Chapter 23

John couldn’t breathe. He opened his mouth but no sound issued from his lips. He tried to suck in a breath of air but his lungs refused to cooperate. His chest felt squeezed and he felt like he would burn up from the inside. As though he were sinking under a cascade of water… The world turned red with pain. But John couldn’t seem to understand where the pain originated from. Over the rushing in his ears, he could hear voices and they sounded troubled but John couldn’t be bothered to think why that might be so. He only knew that the sky was red and the trees were red and that it was best if he let himself float away. He did not know if he was awake or asleep, or dead or alive. He did not want to know.

Suddenly the tight vice around him seemed to release and he took in a deep gulp of air. He was aware of stabs of pain shooting through him, piercing his red haze but John would not open his eyes. There were hands on him, movement all around him, vibrating within him and still John tried to hold on to that wispy feeling of lightness. Something told him he was better off clinging to it.

He did not know how long he lay like that before the pain became too much to bear and he woke up screaming.

“Yes! That’s it, John! You need to push! Now!” a man was saying. Was he talking to him? His child! John looked down at himself. His belly was still big though he could feel the child had moved lower. He lay in a bed in some strange room, naked below his waist and with his knees raised in the birthing position. A woman he did not recognize was rubbing his forehead with a damp cloth. The landlord of the chalet was at his bedside. It all came back to him in a rush as the next contraction tore through him.

“Sherlock!” he screamed in panic. “My Alpha! I have to help him! He fell…he fell over the Reichenbach Falls”, he gasped to the man and tried to struggle up in bed. “No, no love”, he said looking agitated, “your baby’s coming. You can’t go anywhere now!” John flailed uselessly as they held him down. “You need to push _now_ , Omega, if you want your child to be born safely!” the woman said when they had finally managed to subdue him.

But John just lay back onto the sweat-soaked pillows and closed his eyes again. He tried to feel for Sherlock through his bond but his thoughts went repeatedly to the terrible churning of the waters, the sharp drop onto the black rocks below. Could anyone survive such a fall, he thought, grimacing as his eyes welled up and another tremor ripped through him. The women continued to tell him to push but John was lost in thoughts of silver blue eyes lighting up with excitement, of alabaster skin turning rosy with passion... His vision blurred with his tears and he thought he could smell again that distinctive blend of smoke and honey. He thought he could hear that deep, rich voice call out his name… John, John… JOHN! He gasped and blinked as two large hands gripped his face and when his vision cleared he was looking at his Alpha’s face!

“Sherlock!” he whispered, reaching out eager hands to touch him.

“Yes, John! I’m here”, his mate replied gathering up his hands and kissing them.

“I thought…I was afraid…” John stuttered barely able to believe the sight before him. Sherlock sat on the bed. His clothes were wet and torn and bloodied. His curls dripped with water, his face was bruised and blood ran down from a gash on his forehead. But his ethereal blue eyes were full of love.

“You have always been by my side John. I could not leave you alone! Especially not when you are with our child! I love you too much”, Sherlock said simply.

“Moriarty is dead. I grabbed a tree branch when we went over the Falls and held on till I could find a way to get back up,” he added and John realized that his hands were cut and bleeding. He whimpered and Sherlock kissed his forehead. “The landlord of our chalet found your note and came to look for you. I will explain the rest later but now you need to concentrate on getting our child safely into my arms. Push down John! I’m right here with you!”

 

**_~Six months later~_ **

****

“Well, it’s time for us to take our leave, dearest”, John said to Molly, “It was a beautiful ceremony and I had a lovely time.”

Molly hugged him and whispered in his ear, “Thank you. For playing Cupid.”

“I wish you both a lifetime of happiness”, John smiled, looking at her and Lestrade. “Being married, and bonded, is a wonderful experience. When my marriage was arranged I never thought so, but now I cannot recommend it enough!”

Lestrade shook his hand and smiled broadly. “And where _is_ your husband?” he asked looking around the ballroom.

There were still several guests milling around the beautifully decorated room even though the last rays of the sun were now slanting in through the French windows. The celebrations had carried on for a long time. Mycroft and Anthea were among the few couples still dancing, moving slowly to the music and wrapped up around each other. Howard Watson was in animated conversation with a group of men that included Sir Anderson. John had never liked the man after the Moriarty episode even though later he had apologized several times. Once Moriarty had died, his web started unraveling and his minions began crawling out of the woodwork. After that it had been easy to clear Sherlock’s name. Sir Anderson had converted from skeptic to one of Sherlock’s staunch supporters.

“Oh! He was right here!” John sighed exasperatedly, not seeing his husband anywhere. “I’ll just go find him shall I?” he said and made his way past the other guests at the wedding banquet.

He made an educated guess and found Sherlock in the library. He smiled, his eyes warming with love as he took in the sight in front of him. Sherlock sat in an armchair with their son in his arms and a book lying open on his lap. He was pointing out something in the book and talking softly to his child - his dark head bent towards the small fair one, his baritone overlaying the soft gurgles of the infant.

“There’s my baby!” John said aloud as he walked towards them.

Sherlock looked up and his lip quirked on seeing John. But he pouted and turned to look at his son. “You see, Benedict? Papa doesn’t even notice me anymore.”

John grinned. “How do you know which baby I was referring to?” he asked as he bent down to kiss his husband and take the child from his arms. The baby cooed in delight as John dropped a kiss on his fair curls and his plump little hands. His child smelled strongly of his Alpha triggering a deep contentment within John. “So what has Father been teaching you, love? It had better not be about the Criminal Sciences!” He peered at the name on the cover of the book as Sherlock rose to put it away. “Chemistry! Really Sherlock?”

“It’s important to expose Ben to the right influences early on, John”, Sherlock said defensively.

John couldn’t hide a smile, “He’s six months old, Sherlock!”

“There’s no correct age to begin learning!” Sherlock retorted.

“And what if Ben’s not interested in chemistry?” John asked, as the baby bounced in his arms, his bright blue eyes sparkling, as if enjoying this conversation. “What if he’s interested in… painting?”

“Well then, Benedict Howard Holmes will be the best painter in the world. My son is brilliant John, in case you hadn’t noticed” Sherlock said going over to stand next to his Omega and child.

“Our son, you mean”, John corrected him, as the subject of these discussions brought his little hands together as if clapping and gave a toothless smile. Sherlock smiled and ran a hand over his son’s head affectionately.

“I’ve said our goodbyes to Lestrade and Molly. It’s time we went home and put Benedict to bed”, John said as they walked out of the library together.

“Look at him, John. He’s not sleepy in the least. Are you Ben?” Sherlock said proffering a finger which his son grabbed immediately.

“Well, he’s your son, isn’t he?” John quipped.

“Oh now he’s _my_ son, is it?”

“And he’s going to bed whether he likes it or not. And so are you!”

“Oh, I don’t mind going to bed. So long as you are in it!”

A maid, scurrying by, blushed and giggled to see the handsome Alpha put a hand on his fair Omega’s behind and give it a quick squeeze.

“Sherrrlock!” John exclaimed, trying to sound shocked and failing to keep the smile off his face.

“Jooohn!” his husband said, imitating his tone and then bent down to capture his Omega’s mouth in a soft kiss.

When the maid turned back to look, she found the Alpha and Omega looking adoringly at each other, as their child laughed and clapped…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that brings us to the end of this journey!
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you so much all you wonderful people who have read this story, appreciated it and encouraged me through your comments! This is my first ever work of fiction of this length and I have kept going only because of the interest you have shown.
> 
> Special thanks to all my regular reviewers for the morale boosters! I really looked forward to your comments after every new chapter!  
> Thanks also to those who shared/recc'ed this work and helped my efforts reach more people.  
> And a big hug for labellecreation who liked this story enough to create so many beautiful manips for it!
> 
> I had FUN writing this! Thank you for reading and have a nice day! :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so my excuse for writing this is that I saw the first two episodes of Sherlock series 3. And it left me with so many feels (very bad feels, feelsy feels...) that I had to come back to the sanctuary of this AU. And write some fluffy smut to recover.  
> So, you know... read if you like...let me know what you think. :)

“You know at this stage of my life, I really thought I would be patching up my son’s scrapes and bruises not my husband’s!” John exclaimed in exasperation. He was cleaning an ugly looking abrasion on Sherlock’s elbow with a soft washcloth, while the detective tried to look unconcerned. “Alright, now this may sting a little bit”, John said as he opened the bottle of liniment.

“Please John!” his husband snorted. “I’m not a chil… Ow! What is this infernal thing?!” Sherlock glared balefully at the green liquid his Omega had applied to his elbow.

John grinned. “It’s a new herbal soother Mrs. Hudson has prepared. I’ve found it very useful whenever Ben’s up to his usual antics. Heals all manner of injuries in no time.”

“You are using this painful preparation on our child?! It is unfit for human use!” Sherlock said in outraged accents.

“Just so you know, Ben doesn’t even wince when I apply it,” John said unperturbed, “Of course, that could be because I always give him a kiss to take away the sting of the medicine.” And with that he placed a soft kiss just above the bruise on his Alpha’s arm.

Sherlock’s face cleared, “Mmmm…That does feel better.” He drew his Omega closer until they were almost pressed chest to chest and wrapping his arms around him, said in a low voice, “And John, I think I may have bruised my lips too”.

John’s eyes twinkled and he murmured, “Let me take care of that…” He turned his face up to press his mouth against Sherlock’s and closing his eyes lost himself in the bliss of that familiar scent and those soft lips moving against his. 

They had been married for five years now and were parents to two year old twin girls, Olivia and Sylvia, besides their son, Benedict. Sherlock’s fame had spread far and wide and he now had an international reputation as a consulting detective. John still accompanied him on cases whenever he was able and remained his sounding board and conductor of light. 

“I’ve missed you, darling”, John said as he laid his head on his husband’s chest. Sherlock had been away looking into a case on the Continent. He had returned just that morning after more than a week away. 

“I missed you too”, Sherlock rumbled into his mate’s soft hair. 

“Faa-ther!” came a sudden shriek as little whirlwind ran into the room and wrapped himself around Sherlock’s legs. 

“Ah! Benny, come here son!” Sherlock said with a broad smile as he lifted Ben up into his arms and kissed his forehead. “So have you been a good boy while I’ve been away?”

“Yes, Father I have! You can ask Papa!” the child said immediately.

John smiled at his son indulgently, recognizing the holier-than-thou expression only too well. He had seen it on his husband’s face too many times to count. He ruffled his son’s curls which were turning darker everyday from the blond they had once been. He rather thought his son’s hair would end up the same auburn shade as Sherlock’s. The boy looked like the spitting image of his Alpha sire in any case. John had hopes that his baby girls would look more like him. They looked like blonde and blue-eyed cherubs now as they tottered towards Sherlock when they went up to the nursery. Mrs. Hudson had been keeping them company and she said excitedly, “Oh, look at that! The girls are so delighted to see you Sherlock!” 

Sherlock knelt down and while Ben still clung possessively to him, the girls dropped into his outstretched arms murmuring excited gibberish. Sherlock sighed contentedly scenting his children as they fought for his attention. 

 

Sherlock had returned with several gifts for the children. There were exotic sweets from the different cities he had traversed, beautifully embroidered cloth to be fashioned into dresses, a kaleidoscope for his son and several other trinkets. Ben crowed with delight at his kaleidoscope and the girls clearly had a sweet tooth. 

“Look Papa, I think this one’s a thpider”, Ben lisped as he showed John the patterns formed by the glass pieces. 

“Yes darling”, John said nodding. He looked at his husband and whispered, “Only your son could spot a spider in these lovely patterns. And you do know that he’s going to take the thing apart by tomorrow.”

“And put it back together too”, Sherlock pointed out proudly. “He has a healthy curiosity about the world.”

John smiled and went to remove the box of sweets from the twins’ grasp.

It was late afternoon by the time a sumptuous lunch was had, the children put to bed for their nap and Sherlock and John were able to retire to their chambers.  
“You didn’t ask me what I brought for you, John”, Sherlock said to his Omega as he lazed in his lap. John bent down to kiss him, “Mmm…I’m just happy you’re home.”

“Good. Gifts are just a societal construct intended to foster materialism and transactional behavior patterns”, Sherlock said. He turned his head and looked with delight at the slight pout emerging on John’s face. “But yes, I have brought something for you!” he grinned and reaching a hand inside his coat drew out a small cloth pouch.

When John loosened the strings of the pouch, he found what felt like a golden chain inside. There were two broad, smooth, gleaming strands and the circle of gold was caught together in an adjustable loop. The gold strands passed through the loop to end in a few tinkling bells. 

“Oh, it’s very pretty, Sherlock! Is it… it’s a bit long for a necklace though, isn’t it?” John said looping the golden strands and trying to figure out how to wear the jewelry. 

“As usual, John, you see but you do not observe. That’s not a neckpiece. It’s a girdle”, Sherlock said. “In Luxembourg, one afternoon, I met a Greek merchant for whom I secured a good sale using my skills as an interpreter. He insisted on paying me with this. Said it was a suitable gift for an Omega.”

“A… a girdle? To wear around the waist? Ohh…”

“Why don’t you try it on?”

“I will… but not now, love. Maybe at night. Now you should get some rest. You’ve had a long journey and we will be having guests in the evening.”

Sherlock hummed in assent as he closed his eyes. He was a little disappointed that John had not seemed to like the girdle enough to try it on but then he had not really expected John to go around wearing jewelry over his breeches. The practice had gone out of date for almost two hundred years. John ran his fingers through his hair and all his remaining thoughts seemed to float away.

 

In the evening Mycroft and Anthea joined them at 221B Baker Street for dinner. John liked to entertain and felt it was important to keep their family and friends close. Sherlock liked to keep John happy. Dinner itself was a pleasant affair though Mycroft and Sherlock continued to exchange a few barbs and argue about the details of his latest case. Anthea and John rolled their eyes and ignored them, as this was always the way the brothers interacted. The children were not allowed downstairs for dinner but the guests dropped in to see them in the nursery and left Mrs. Hudson clucking her tongue as she tried to calm down the excited children.

Finally, and much to Sherlock’s relief, the guests took their leave. He had been away for a fair bit of time and he just wanted to surround himself with the scent of his Omega. 

“Well done, husband. You were so patient tonight, you deserve a gift yourself”, John said teasingly.

Sherlock’s ears pricked up. “I do, don’t I?” he said as he grabbed John round the waist and nuzzled his bondbite.

“And... you’ll have to give me a few minutes. Why don’t you check on the children and then change into your nightclothes? I’ll wait for you in the bedchamber”, John said as he slipped away.

Sherlock did as instructed wondering eagerly what his Omega was planning. 

When he entered the bedchamber, John was standing in front of the fireplace wearing a satin robe, the colour of claret. His blond hair looked almost golden in the light from the fireplace. As Sherlock came closer, he said, “I did say I would wear your gift at night…” He undid the robe letting it slip off his shoulders and pool at his feet. He was completely naked except for the golden girdle slung low around his hips and dropping away to end in bells over his left thigh. After having birthed three babies, John was a bit rounded and soft but still remarkably fit. The girdle swept enticingly over his wide hips and skimmed the golden hair at his crotch. The blood shot to Sherlock’s groin immediately and his mouth fell open.

John smirked and turned around slowly, putting on a show. He sashayed towards the bed, the golden strands gleaming against the top of his undulating buttocks, the bells tinkling softly as he moved. He crawled up over the bed and lay down on his stomach. He lifted his legs at the knees and crossed his ankles in the air playfully before turning to look seductively at where his husband stood rooted to the spot. “I take it, you like your gift then?” he teased. 

Sherlock seemed to finally snap out of his lust addled haze. He reached the bed in a few strides and looked down at John’s smooth plump behind, at how the girdle seemed to enhance and emphasize his nudity. “John!” Sherlock breathed out as he tore off his clothes and scrambled on top of his mate. 

He sucked at John’s pink lips and nipped at his earlobe before planting a line of kisses down his spine, trying to draw out the delicious torture as much as he was able. He cupped and kneaded the rounded globes of John’s ass and couldn’t resist a bite. John laughed softly and the Alpha growled. He pulled John up and positioned him, quickly penetrating him with his fingers to prepare him. John was already wet, the little game of seduction having turned him on as well and his Alpha’s pheromones doing the rest. 

Sherlock held his Omega’s hips and guided himself in and John moaned in pleasure at being filled. “Ah..ah… I missed you, Sh..Sherlock”, he gasped out as the Alpha began to thrust repeatedly into him. Sherlock watched as the golden girdle swayed tantalizingly over John’s ass with the increasing force of his thrusts, its tinkling bells driving him mad with desire. He moved forward to cover John’s body with his, placing an arm around his chest and holding his hand with the other. The bells on the girdle tinkled as skin slapped against skin and desperate moans and grunts filled the air. Sherlock squeezed John’s nipples, knowing how sensitive John was there. John had been rutting at the sheets and he keened in pleasure. “Yes, John…yes… mine, mine”, Sherlock said pounding breathlessly into him and the Omega orgasmed with a scream, clenching against Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock held his mate’s quivering form and came soon after, spurting uncontrollably within John.

When they had cleaned up and curled around each other, John’s little form tucked away in Sherlock’s large arms, the Alpha murmured, “John, I must admit, sometimes YOU are the genius!”


End file.
